"That I can't say," replied Kenneth. "But we must be on the move. We have to provision and water the boat, and get clear of the island before daybreak—or rather make for the outer harbour and lie there until it's light enough to see our way through the reefs."
"But why make for Talai, Kenneth?" asked his father.
"'Cause the black pearls are there."
"Bother the black pearls," exclaimed Mr. Heatherington. "They are the cause of all this unfortunate business."
"It's a pity to miss the opportunity," persisted his son. "Now that we are so near, we may have a shot at getting hold of them. Besides there's that Dane. He's rather a decent fellow. I'd like to meet him again."
"We aren't there yet," observed Peter Arkendale. "And we won't reach there, if we stay here talking. Now for the provision store."
The four left the building, and found their way to the still open gate in the barbed-wire fence.
"I'll have a look at the sentry, and see if he's coming to," said Kenneth, who felt rather sorry for the Spaniard he had felled.
He made his way to the spot where the sentry had been stunned, bound, and gagged. He flashed his torch into the fellow's face and immediately recoiled. The man's head had been battered in with his own rifle-butt.
"That's Lopez's dirty work," thought Kenneth. "Well, that proves anyway that he's not going to betray us. I wonder where the rascal is?"
Unchallenged the four Britons gained the hut in which the provisions were stored. They helped themselves liberally, for when contemplating a long voyage in an open boat it was necessary to lay in enough food for an ample margin against risk of starvation. They also took two breakers of fresh water, each containing about five gallons, and heavily laden they continued their way to the beach.
When they arrived at the place where the little craft had been hauled up high and dry, Kenneth gave an exclamation of dismay.
The boat was no longer there.
CHAPTER XXV. THEIR RETREAT CUT OFF
Feelings akin to consternation assailed the four adventurers. Kenneth and Peter were particularly dismayed. They had seen the boat high and dry on the beach at sunset. No one, apparently, had left the hut and proceeded to the harbour up to the time the chums set out to free Mr. Heatherington and Gregory.
In the intense darkness, it was impossible to see more than a few yards, and it was extremely hazardous at this stage of the proceedings to switch on an electric torch.
"Sure this is the place?" asked Captain Gregory.
"Positive," replied Kenneth. "It was close to these stumps."
"Was she tied up to them?" inquired the Captain.
"That I cannot say," answered Kenneth.
Gregory said nothing at the time, but kneeling down he groped in the sand.
"Wet," he announced at length. "Tide's made up well above where we are standing. It's even levelled the bed she made for herself."
"But the tide never comes so high as this," declared Kenneth. "We've watched it. It doesn't run more than a few feet, and there's nearly ten yards between high-water mark and the boat's heel. Isn't that so, Peter?"
"That's correct, old son," replied Arkendale.
"You're both wrong," said Captain Gregory flatly. "It's been an extraordinary high tide, or, if you like, a tidal wave. They aren't rare in these parts. Some people maintain that they are the effect of a submarine volcanic disturbance. At all events——"
Gregory's explanation was interrupted by a rifle shot, followed by others in quick succession.
"They've missed us!" declared Mr. Heatherington. "They're raising an alarm."
"Then we must make a dash for our hiding-place," declared Kenneth. "This way."
He was about to set off across the sands in the nearest direction to the lads' lair in the brushwood, when Peter gripped him by the shoulder.
"They'll spot our footprints in the sand," he exclaimed. "Make for the hard rock before you start in that direction."
The whole nest of pirates was disturbed. A regular fusillade of rifle and pistol shots disturbed the stillness of the air. It was quite impossible to judge with any degree of accuracy from how far off the sounds came—whether from the huts or from some point between them and the beach. The flashes were directly invisible, although there was a succession of reddish lights in the sky as the fusillade continued.
It required a considerable amount of self-restraint for the fugitives to make straight in the direction of the firing; but everyone of the little band realized the soundness of Peter Arkendale's warning.
Hurrying along the well-beaten track they left it at the nearest point where the volcanic rock converged upon the path. Here their footsteps left no distinguishable impression upon the barren ground. A skilled tracker might have been able to follow their "spoor", but it was unlikely that any of the pirates possessed sufficient knowledge of the art of following up a faint trail.
"Here's our cubby-hole, Pater," announced Kenneth, when the party were snugly in possession of the hollow under the dense scrub.
"And very nice, too," said Mr. Heatherington appreciatively.
"But it's too dark to see anything," added Peter, with a chuckle. "So you cannot admire our furniture."
"I can be thankful for the surroundings as they are," rejoined Mr. Heatherington gravely. "When a man has been cooped up within four walls he can appreciate to the fullest extent the joys of liberty, even though in a restricted sense. You see we aren't out of the wood yet. What do you propose to do, Kenneth? This is your undertaking, you know."
"We'll have to hang on till daylight to see how things are shaping," replied his son. "Losing the boat is a bit of a staggerer. No doubt, the rascals removed it."
"Why should they?" asked Peter. "They hadn't any reason till they discovered your governor and Captain Gregory were missing. That was after we were clear of the huts."
"They are such cunning fellows that one doesn't know how much they do know," said Kenneth. "Lopez might have given the show away: it's just the sort of thing a rotter like that would do. And, of course, the pirates might have spotted us and decided to play with us like a cat with a mouse."
"If it comes to the worst we must fight for it," declared Captain Gregory.
The others agreed.
"We've a revolver, a knife, and an unlimited supply of bludgeons," reported Kenneth. "There are four of us. Goodness only knows how many Spaniards there are on the island. We thought there were only half a dozen. Two were killed in the boat. The sentry's dead. Yet there were at least seven strolling about yesterday."
"I can't help you to form an estimate," observed Mr. Heatherington. "We never saw more than two men at one time during our imprisonment. What was Lopez doing there?"
Kenneth explained, relating his account of the struggle between Mendoza and the counter-mutineer.
"You ought to have let 'em fight it out," declared Gregory bluntly. "There would have been one villain the less, at any rate."
"Possibly Mendoza would have gone under," rejoined Kenneth. "Of the two I prefer him. In any case I couldn't stand by and see a man knifed."
Captain Gregory shrugged his shoulders. His feelings towards Mendoza and company were decidedly of a vindictive nature.
"It would have saved a length of brand new hemp," he remarked.
By this time all was quiet in the vicinity of the huts. The lamp in the men's sleeping quarters had been extinguished. No torches flashed their inquiring beams. Evidently the mutineers had abandoned their search for the missing prisoners until daybreak.
"You lads had better turn in," suggested Mr. Heatherington. "And you, too, Gregory. I'll keep watch. I've had a decent sleep already. You haven't. You've two and a half hours before dawn."