"I'm on it," said Peter.
"You're not," protested his chum. "You can stand by. It's a one man show. Two run more risk of being spotted, and besides I know the place better than you do, I fancy."
"I don't like the idea," remarked Peter.
"Neither do I," agreed Kenneth. "But that's neither here nor there. I'm going to have a jolly good shot at it."
For the rest of the remaining hours of daylight the fugitives kept a watch upon the collection of huts. Most, if not all, of the buccaneers left on the island were lounging in the open, enjoying the cool of the day. All were smoking, including the man on guard over the prison hut, while most of them were either playing cards or a game resembling dominoes.
Just before sunset a couple of men strolled down to the pier-head and descended a ladder on the side farthest from the watchers. Presently a boat with the same men put out from the pier.
"Hallo!" ejaculated Peter. "I didn't know there was a boat here."
"One of the Paloma's," said Kenneth. "By Jove! I'd like to collar that boat, and make a dash for it."
"And get collared by the Paloma on her return run," added Peter caustically. "Now what are those fellows up to? Are they going to spoil our night's entertainment?"
The chums watched the boat move slowly towards the centre of the secret harbour. One of the men threw overboard a large stone to which was attached a grassline. Having thus anchored the boat, its occupants proceeded to fish.
"They may be all night at that game," hazarded Peter.
"We'll hear them coming back, never fear," said Kenneth. "In any case there are two men the less up at the huts."
"What! Do you mean to say you're going to tackle the others?" asked his chum.
"My lad! There's a time to fight and a time to lie doggo," replied Kenneth. "It all depends upon opportunity and circumstance. For the present we'll have to go slow and see how the land lies."
While daylight lasted the watchers could see the two pirates hauling up fish at frequent intervals. Even then they found time to play cards.
"The island's a regular poker-den," observed Peter. "Well, that's in our favour. They'll start quarrelling before long; out knives and all that sort of thing. We'll win through yet."
"We'll have to carry out our plans before the Paloma returns," added his chum. "That is, within the next week."
Darkness fell. Within ten minutes of the setting of the sun, the night was as black as pitch. Not a star was visible. The air was heavy and motionless. The branches of the palm trees no longer sighed softly in the breeze. Only the ceaseless booming of the surf upon the far-flung reefs broke the silence.
A light appeared in one of the buildings—a steady yellow glare, obviously from a kerosene lamp. A few minutes later a dancing white light played upon the outside of the prison hut. One of the guards, carrying an electric torch, was perambulating the building. The perfunctory inspection finished, the torch was switched off.
The chums waited another hour before attempting a visit to the buildings. There were no signs or sounds of the men in the boat—not even the glimmer of a lighted cigarette.
Before setting out, Kenneth gave his final instructions, at the same time sticking to his resolution to undertake the hazardous task alone.
"You can wait in that shallow cave half-way between the pier and the barbed-wire fence," he said. "You know the place. I pointed it out when we were lugging that coal down to the beach. I may be gone an hour. Whatever happens, don't leave the spot except if it's necessary to make off away from the huts. I won't be longer than I can possibly help."
Without being disturbed by suspicious sounds, the two lads crossed the open expanse and struck the beaten track. A few minutes' stealthy walk brought them to the cave, which was little more than a recess formed by a violent disruption of the rocks. It was about twenty feet in height and six at the base, the width diminishing to a few inches at the apex of the triangular-like entrance. In daylight it would be useless as a hiding-place; by night it served admirably as such.
"Cheerio!" whispered Kenneth.
"Good luck!" whispered Peter in reply.
Treading softly and with the utmost caution, Kenneth followed the path until he came to the nearest building, where a light was still burning. From within came the sounds of voices. It sounded as if a dispute were in progress and that someone was making an attempt to pacify the opposing parties.
Giving that building a wide berth, Kenneth continued his way until in the darkness he almost blundered into the barbed-wire fence. Bearing away to the left he followed the rectangle of fenced enclosure. The gate, usually left open during the day, was secured by a massive padlock and chain. He concluded that the fellow on guard must have been locked in until relieved by the next for duty.
Presently Kenneth almost stumbled over a dark object lying on the ground. It was the sentry, fortunately sound asleep. The lad threw himself flat upon the hard, grassless soil and waited, fervently hoping that the pirate was not a light sleeper. Lying close to the ground, Kenneth could discern the fellow fairly clearly. He was face-downwards, his head supported on his arm. His rifle and bayonet were by his side, while hanging from his belt was his electric torch.
Then Kenneth did a risky and seemingly unnecessary thing. Why he did it, he knew not. It might have been the result of sudden impulse, or an irresistible desire to bring back some tangible proof of his adventure.
On hands and knees he cautiously approached the sleeper and deliberately opened the spring-hook that fastened the torch to the man's belt. Thirty seconds later, Kenneth regained his feet with the torch in his possession.
"Now, if that had been a pair of wire-cutters, it would have been worth collaring," he thought, as he resumed his walk round the outside of the formidable fence.
For formidable it was, standing quite eight feet in height, with double rows of horizontal wires concealed by a criss-cross of subsidiary wires all bristling with aggressive spikes. It was unscaleable, impenetrable, and set too firmly in the rock to afford any means of tunnelling under it. In the circumstances it seemed as if the presence of a sentry were totally unnecessary: possibly the sentry thought so too, or else he would not have slept at his post. Also, it occurred to Kenneth that discipline must be lax amongst the pirates left behind on Boya Island, otherwise the fellow would not have run the risk of being discovered asleep.
"Does he keep the keys, I wonder?" thought the lad.
As if in answer to his question a torch gleamed in the distance. The beam drew nearer. Someone was approaching—more than likely the relieving sentry.
Again Kenneth threw himself flat. He was then about thirty yards from the still slumbering guard. On his left were the remains of a corrugated iron hut that had fallen into decay since it had been erected by the men who constructed the secret base for the German Pacific fleet. Towards the debris the lad made his way, and, sheltering behind the rusty sheeting, awaited developments.
The newcomer did not seem at all surprised to find the sentry sleeping. There was no vehemence in the manner in which he roused the fellow.
The sentry stood up, bent and fumbled for his rifle, and the two pirates made their way towards the gate. Here, they paused, and although the distance between them and Kenneth had increased considerably, he was still near enough to see the sentry produce a bunch of keys and hand them to his relief.
It was not until then that he missed his torch. The two retraced their steps, the new sentry flashing his torch on the ground in the hope of finding the missing article.
Arriving at the scene of the man's slumbers, his companion began flashing the torch in all directions, the pair talking excitedly the while, as if their suspicions had been aroused.