The four were on the point of returning to their hiding-place—for nothing would induce them to make use of the buildings—when Mr. Heatherington turned to his son.
"I suppose you don't want to remain on the island of Boya for the rest of your natural life, Kenneth?" he remarked.
"Rather not, Pater."
"Then, in the circumstances, perhaps it would be as well if we replaced that mark in its original position," continued Mr. Heatherington.
CHAPTER XXVII. THE PERILS OF THE REEFS
After a satisfying meal, eaten in the open air and without having to copy the furtive habits of a wild animal in constant dread of being surprised by a pitiless foe, the task of regaining possession of the boat was discussed.
"We'll have to get her before to-night's tide," declared Gregory. "I don't suppose it will rise high enough to float her off, but we can't afford to take chances."
"Then let's go at once," suggested Kenneth.
Mr. Heatherington did not view the proposal with particular enthusiasm. Both he and Captain Gregory were feeling the effects of their activities after days of captivity. Their feet were blistered and swollen, and their muscles ached with the strenuous exercise of scrambling over rough and hilly ground.
"Why not get to her by water?" asked Mr. Heatherington.
"Sharks," objected both lads.
"Not by swimming," resumed Kenneth's father. "There are several empty barrels in one of the huts. We could knock up a rough-and-ready raft for the purpose."
The idea of a raft appealed to the chums immensely.
"Right-o, Pater!" exclaimed Kenneth. "Peter and I will roll four barrels down to the beach—won't we, old son? You and Captain Gregory can stand easy. It won't be at all hard getting the things down. It's a steady slope all the way down."
Accordingly the chums set off on the now well-known track between the pier and the storehouses. Arriving at the huts, curiosity prompted them to look into the building formerly used as the pirates' living and sleeping quarters. A hurried glance was quite enough. Lopez had done his work only too thoroughly. Seven corpses lay in various attitudes upon the dried earth that formed the floor. Of these only two had firearms when they were shot down; the others had been slaughtered as they tumbled from their beds.
In another building the lads found the barrels, but a brief examination revealed the disappointing fact that they were totally unfit for the purpose of providing buoyancy. The hoops had rusted, the wood was dry, the seams gaped.
"It seems as if this is a wash-out," remarked Kenneth.
"We may find some water-tight ones," said Peter, optimistically. "Even if we have to empty their contents. Hallo! How will these do?"
He pointed to a tier of oil drums made of iron, each holding about ten gallons.
"Just the thing!" declared Kenneth. "Give me a hand and we'll roll this outside."
The next problem was to get at the contents. The drum was provided with a metal screw-plug, with an hexagonal recess for the purpose of inserting a key. In vain the chums tried to coax the stubborn plug to turn. They searched for a suitable implement, but nothing was to be found.
"Hang on a minute!" exclaimed Kenneth.
Leaving his chum, Kenneth made his way to the pirates' quarters and took possession of a rifle and bayonet.
"Going to drill a hole with a bullet?" asked Peter when Kenneth rejoined him.
"No fear," replied his friend, fixing the bayonet to the rifle.
Peter watched him curiously.
Inserting the point of the bayonet between two timbers of the hut Kenneth gave the blade a sharp jerk. It snapped off within a couple of inches of the point.
"Now hang on," said Kenneth, placing the pointless bayonet in the recess of the plug. "Twist. That's doing it. Here it comes!"
The plug was removed. A stream of oil flowed from the drum.
"Best lubricating oil, by Jove!" exclaimed Peter. "What a waste! And to think I may have to buy oil for my motor-bike within the next two months!"
"You'll be lucky to be able to use the bike at all," rejoined Kenneth with a laugh. "Now, another barrel!"
Having emptied the contents of six drums, they rolled the empty cylinders down the path with hardly any exertion, beyond an occasional push with their feet.
Arriving on the beach they found that Mr. Heatherington and Captain Gregory had not been idle. From a locker on the pier they had obtained an axe and some cordage. They had felled four palms, and had also prised up half a dozen planks from the decking of the pier.
All hands now set to work to construct the raft. Strength in its construction was not necessary, since it was to be employed for a few hours only and on sheltered water.
When completed the raft took the united efforts of the four men to launch her, but once afloat the structure rode lightly and could be propelled with slight effort by means of a couple of short planks.
"She'll only carry two," declared Kenneth.
"She'll take the lot of us," affirmed Captain Gregory. "Sixty gallons represent six hundred pounds or thereabouts, and we don't top the scale at that."
"You aren't taking into consideration the dead weight of the metal, Captain," said Mr. Heatherington. "Suppose we split the difference and let one of us remain?"
The arrangement was agreed upon, Mr. Heatherington stopping ashore. Even then the raft had quite as much as it could comfortably support.
Arriving at the ledge on which the boat rested, they found the craft undamaged beyond a slight chafing of one of the bilge keels. She was almost balanced on the edge of the rock, the water being only four or five feet below her keel.
"Do you think the tide will make much higher, Captain Gregory?" asked Kenneth.
"Matter of a few inches at most," was the reply. "It's not much use waiting on the off chance of it rising above ordinary high-water mark. We'll have to topple her over."
"Won't she be damaged?" inquired Peter.
"No fear," affirmed Captain Gregory. "She's strongly built and full in the bows. She may ship a drop of water but not much. We'll take the gear out of her to give her a chance."
They removed oars, mast, and other articles of her equipment.
"Where's her canvas?" asked Captain Gregory. "She had a couple of sails—nice light ones they were, too—when I had her. Don't say the rogues have cut them up to make shirts."
A search in both lockers failed to find the missing sails. Captain Gregory was almost beside himself with rage. In his eyes the destruction of the boat's canvas was the greatest crime the pirates had committed during their brief and inglorious career.
"Perhaps they're stowed away in one of the huts," suggested Peter.
Captain Gregory snorted.
"You don't catch a crowd of rascally Dagoes going to that trouble," he exclaimed. "They'd sooner let 'em rot. Now, lads! Use the loom of that oar to prise her forefoot up a bit. Stand by with the painter, Mr. Arkendale. Ready? Off she goes!"
The boat trembled in the balance until, aided by a vigorous shove with Peter's broad shoulders, she slid over the edge of the rock into the water. Beyond taking in a few gallons she took to her native element without a hitch.
"How about the raft?" inquired Peter, after the boat's gear had been reshipped. "We don't want her now, do we?"
"We never know," rejoined his chum. "It may come in handy and it's no trouble to tow. Suppose the boat breaks adrift again?"
"She won't," affirmed Captain Gregory, with deep conviction. "You can trust me to see to that, Mr. Heatherington."
Kenneth was content to leave matters of this description in the hands of the experienced master-mariner. His own experience of boats and their management was limited, and although he had good reason to pride himself upon the way he had extricated his companions out of a great many difficulties, he had the sound sense to realize that seamanship was not a strong point with him.