“The pirates must be looking for us,” exclaimed Terence; “it will be fortunate if the mist continues, and they slip by without pitching on us.”
“Pitching into us, you mean,” said Jack, with a laugh. “Well, if they find us out, we must drive them off, and hold our own till the frigate sends to look for us. Still as they are ugly customers, we’ll do our best to keep out of their sight.” In this strain the two midshipmen talked on for some time, watching the movements of the prahus. Now the fog closed round them—now it lifted and exposed their sails to view. They seemed to be gliding by the island. Yet they were unpleasantly near.
“If the fog lifts, they can scarcely fail to see us,” remarked Terence.
“Then, Paddy, we must fight it out to the last, and I am sure that you are of my opinion too,” said Jack.
“That I am, Jack,” cried Adair, wringing his hand. “But I say, what is that? I heard the splash of oars.” They listened. There could be no doubt of it, and their practised ears told them that it was not the stroke of British seamen. The pirates, it was too probable, had sent on shore, and would land close to the very spot where the wreck of the boats lay. They would in all probability betray them. It could not be helped, so they hurried back to the camp to prepare for whatever might happen. As they passed along the beach, they could still hear the sound of oars, which was borne for a considerable distance over the calm water. The men stood with their muskets in their hands ready for the attack. Even the wounded men begged to be propped up against the bank that they might get a shot at the enemy.
Poor little Harry had dropped off into a deep slumber, and knew nothing of the preparations taking place. Needham volunteered to go down and watch behind a rock close down to the water, so as to give the earliest notice of the approach of the pirate-boats, should they come on shore at that point.
They had not long to wait. Louder and more distinct grew the splash of the oars.
Presently Needham came running up to the fort. “There are pretty nearly a dozen boats in,” he exclaimed; “you’ll see them in a moment coming out of the fog. They can’t very well miss finding us.”
“Very well,” said Jack, coolly. “They’ll be sorry that they did find us, that’s all.”
As Needham had said, in another minute the long black hulls of the pirate’s boats appeared through the fog, and being run up on the beach, the crew leaped out of them. The swarthy savages, with sharp creeses by their sides and long jingalls in their hands, looked about on every side, and seemed surprised at not finding an enemy. They examined the boats, and then looked about again. So well was the fort constructed among the rocks, that in the fog they did not discover it. They began to scatter about; they were evidently persuaded that the English had made their escape across the island. At length three or four Malays wandered close up to the fort. They stood for a moment as if transfixed, and then, as it beamed on their comprehension what it really was, they beat a retreat, shouting to their companions.