While they had been talking, the long-boat had been lowered and was now alongside the gangway.
“All aboard,” directed Jim.
Each member of the party was armed with a rifle and a revolver. It took but a moment for the five to get into the boat. Jim and Juarez took the oars.
“Where are you going to land, Jim,” asked Berwick, who had taken the tiller. “It won’t do to venture very close to the Sea Eagle.”
“The first point where we can find a landing place on the north shore. They will hardly see us at this distance.”
“Just over here is a good place,” suggested Tom, indicating a break in the rocky cliff where the land sloped down to the water.
It was only a short pull to the shore, and ten minutes later the boat was run up on a sandy beach, and the comrades disembarked. Making the painter fast to a large rock, the party, under the lead of Jim, set out for the other end of the harbor.
It was slow moving through the tangled underbrush, and nearly two hours were consumed in a roundabout trip which brought them to a point, where, themselves unobserved, a close and distinct view of the Sea Eagle and the lugger was obtainable.
Everyone on board the two boats was busily engaged in the task of transferring from the lugger’s hold numerous boxes, cases and casks, which were being stored aboard the Sea Eagle.
Berwick clutched Jim’s arm. “See,” he gasped, “on the afterdeck! What did I tell you?”