Not until Mr. Jenkins examined the beach in every direction for a
distance of ten or fifteen yards from where they came out of the
thicket, would he be convinced that the tender had been stolen.
Then, when he saw the imprints of bare feet, showing that the thieves
had carried the little craft thirty or forty feet toward the eastward
before launching her, and even found the spot where her bow had rested
on the sand, probably while the negroes got on board, he was almost
beside himself with rage.
“I ought to be kicked every hour in the day until we get home again,”
he said, angrily. “Anybody, except a fool like me, would have had sense
enough, when those fellows left the fire, to realize that the boat
might be in danger; but I never gave her a thought.”
“Neither did Nelse nor I,” Gil added, “consequently we rank quite as
high in the fool scale. There’s no way out of it, but admit to father
that we allowed the tender to be stolen, and try to look pleasant when
he makes sport of us.”
“I wish we were where we could tell him,” the mate said, half to
himself.
“That can be easily arranged. It will only be necessary to discharge
the revolvers three or four times, and I guarantee father will send
some one ashore to learn if there is any trouble.”
“I don’t think it would be just safe to do that. The crowd we saw back
there would most likely prove to be ugly customers, if they had any
idea we saw their capers, and it might not be pleasant to bring them
down upon us by reports of the weapons.”
“Do you believe they are voudoos?” Nelse asked, in a voice which was
not remarkable for its steadiness.
“There can be no question about it.”
“But what are they doing?”
“I reckon old Andy is the only one of our folks who can answer that
question.”
“It begins to look as if we had good cause to be afraid,” Gil said,
gloomily.
“Not a bit of it,” the mate replied, cheerily. “We have only to loaf
around here two or three hours, and then some one will come ashore to
look for us. The most serious portion of the whole business is that
the captain is bound to haul us over the coals for losing the boat and
putting him to so much trouble.”
Owing to the darkness and the distance, it was not possible to see even
the outlines of the yacht; but the forlorn party knew in what direction
she lay, and they seated themselves on the sand just outside the fringe
of bushes, straining their ears to hear the first sound which should
tell that friends were coming.
Half an hour elapsed.
Mr. Jenkins had just ascertained this fact by looking at his watch,
when the sound of oars caused all three to leap to their feet in joy.
Surprise and delight that the time of waiting had been so short
prevented them from noticing that the craft was coming from a direction
opposite the location of the schooner, and as they went to the water’s
edge, Gil hailed:
“Boat ahoy! Here we are! Our craft was stolen, and to save ourselves
from possible trouble, we didn’t try to attract your attention.”
Then he paused for a reply; but none came. The light splashing of
water told that the boat was still approaching, and Mr. Jenkins cried,
impatiently:
“Ahoy there! Where are you from?”
Now even the sounds of the oars ceased, and the little party were so
engaged in trying to distinguish the craft amid the gloom, that they
failed to hear the light patter of naked feet directly behind them.
“It must be----”
Mr. Jenkins did not finish the sentence, for at that instant he was
seized from behind and dragged backward on the sand before he could
make the slightest outcry.
Gil and Nelse were served in the same manner at the same time, and when
either of the three realized what had happened, they were powerless to
move or speak.
Two negroes held each of the prisoners as in bonds of iron, while a
third covered the captive’s mouth with an enormous hand to prevent any
outcry.
The mate attempted to show fight; but struggle as he might, it was
impossible to do more than render his own position painful, and this
he understood in a very short time.
The _Day Dream’s_ boat, which had played such an important part in
their capture, was now rowed to the shore, and from her leaped two
other negroes, who, after assuring themselves that the white strangers
had been secured, lifted the tender from the water, carrying her
straight up from the beach.
When they had disappeared in the thicket, the prisoners were raised to
their feet, and one of the captors, who appeared to be the leader of
the party, spoke harshly in a tongue which neither the mate nor the
boys understood.
From the tone, it was easy to guess that he was warning them of the
consequences in case they should make any outcry; but this seemed
superfluous, in view of the fact that the black hands were still held
firmly over their mouths.
Half-led, half-dragged, the little party was forced through the
thicket, in the direction from which they had just come, and not a word
was spoken until all were within the circle of light cast by the fire
around which the negroes had been dancing.
Here the black men held a very lively conversation, all talking at the
same time, and pausing now and then only to examine more closely the
prisoners.
Gil believed they were discussing the question of what should be
done with their prizes, and this seemed yet more probable when the
two highly-decorated old men spoke at great length, while the others
listened, all nodding their heads in token of approval when the
speeches were brought to a close.
Meanwhile, Mr. Jenkins appeared to be more alarmed than were the boys;
but his fear came from other sources than the present disagreeable
situation.
The soughing of the wind among the trees told, to his experienced ear,
that a breeze was springing up from the northeast, and if it increased
to no more even than what might be expected at this season of the year,
he knew it would become necessary for the yacht to put to sea, or run
down the other side of the island for a harbor.
In either case they would be left comparatively alone among those who
could be considered in no other light than as enemies, and the prospect
was not cheering.
The negroes had not yet decided what should be done, when the report of
a musket was heard in the distance, and the prisoners looked at each
other meaningly, for they knew it was a signal for them to return at
once.
This noise caused the black men to come to a speedy conclusion, and
after the old fellows had given what were evidently very minute
directions as to future movements, the fire was extinguished.
The prisoners, guarded as before, were marched through the thicket on a
course nearly at right angles with the one by which they had come from
the beach, and had not proceeded more than a quarter of a mile when
shouts were heard from the shore.
“Gil! Mr. Jenkins! Shipmates ahoy!”
Captain Mansfield had sent a boat ashore in search of the missing
members of his crew, and one can fancy some portion of the prisoners’
mental distress at knowing friends were so near and they unable to make
their whereabouts known.
Again Mr. Jenkins attempted to free himself; but after receiving
several warning pricks from the point of a knife, in token of what
might follow in case he persisted in fighting, he gave up the struggle.
Again and again did the cries come to their ears, borne on the wind,
which was steadily and rapidly increasing, and then another report of a
musket told that this last boat had been recalled.
Gil and Nelse were almost frantic. Both realized that the negroes would
not have dared to commit such an outrage, unless they were so strong in
numbers as to resist an attack, and the thought of what might be their
fate on this island, which had already been the scene of so many bloody
dramas, was ample excuse for any display of weakness or terror.
The negroes marched rapidly on for at least half-an-hour, and then,
coming suddenly, as if from the very bowels of the earth, a bright
flame appeared directly in front of the leaders.
As their eyes became accustomed to the gloom, the boys saw that the
blaze proceeded from half-a-dozen torches, held by as many men, who had
come out of what appeared to be a cave in the side of a hill.
Here quite a lengthy conversation ensued, and then the prisoners were
led through a passage sufficiently wide for three men to walk abreast,
to a small cave situated about fifty feet from the opening.
Further on, the glow, as of a fire, could be seen, thus showing that
beyond their halting-place was another and a larger underground
chamber, where, probably, those who had been performing the uncouth
antics near the beach found a shelter.
The prisoners were thrust into the small cave, or excavation, without
ceremony, and the others went on, apparently indifferent as to what
might be done by the whites.
The place was so dark that no idea could be formed of its size, or what
it might contain, and even if it had been light, Mr. Jenkins would
hardly have given it any attention at that moment.
He stood near the entrance watching until the men had entered the cave
at the end of the passage, and then he ran toward the entrance.
Before he had taken twenty steps, a blow from a club brought him to his
knees, showing that sentinels were on the alert, and he crawled back,
dazed and bleeding from an ugly cut on the head.
The boys had not followed; but they understood from the noise what had
happened, and, aiding their companion to enter the underground prison,
seated themselves beside him.
“What a fool I was to fancy we were left unguarded,” the mate said, as
he felt the warm blood trickling down his face. “Strike a light, Gil,
and see what condition my head is in.”
Fortunately, the boys had a small supply of wax matches, and one of
these burned long enough to examine the wound.
A single glance was sufficient to show that it was not serious,
although it would probably cause considerable pain, and Nelse tied his
handkerchief around it to stay the flow of blood.
“I hope we shall have a chance to dress it better before twenty-four
hours have passed,” Gil said, with a vain attempt to speak cheerfully.
“Father will surely come on shore in search of us when the sun rises,
and he should be able to follow such a broad trail as we must have left
in coming here.”
“Your father is at sea by this time,” Mr. Jenkins replied, almost
sharply. “Didn’t you notice that the wind was blowing half a gale
before we arrived here? To save the yacht, he had to get up anchor, and
it may be a week before he can get back.”