Part 29 (1/2)
CHAPTER XIX
THE PRISONER'S ESCAPE
”Do you think they will ever return?” asked Terence.
”I think they have had enough,” replied Mr. McKay. ”They've had a lesson.”
”And so have we,” added Ellerton, dolefully regarding the fragments of the storehouse and the shattered line of rails.
”And our boat; how shall we be able to leave the island now?” asked Andy.
”Perhaps the damage done to that is not so great as we imagine. With the help of these canoes we may be able to raise her. But we'll go into that question later. At present I feel as if I could enjoy a good square meal.”
So back to the dwelling-house they went, where Quexo, who had been quaking all the time, was rea.s.sured.
”Don't you think we could rig up an electric alarm?” said Terence during the progress of the meal. ”There's plenty of insulated copper wire in the small store.”
”It would be as well,” replied Mr. McKay. ”We might have a return visit; though, as I said before, I don't antic.i.p.ate one.”
”But some natives from another island might try and surprise us,” said Andy. ”News travels quickly, and perhaps we might again be favoured with the unwelcome attentions of these savage gentry.”
”And I tell you what,” continued Terence, waxing enthusiastic, for electrical engineering was his strong point, ”we brought one of the _San Martin's_ searchlights ash.o.r.e. I'll try and fix it up and connect it with the dynamo.”
”We'll see what's to be done. But now, how about Blight? It's time we paid him a visit.”
”I guess he's been wondering what the dust-up was about,” remarked Andy, as he prepared the prisoner's daily ration.
Andy and Terence were deputed to visit the prisoner, and, armed as usual and carrying a supply of food and water, they set off for the fenced-in dwelling.
From the elevation of the upper terrace they could see the distant dark brown sails of the canoes, for the wind was light and their progress had been slow.
”They'll have a nice yarn to pitch into their friends when they return,” observed Terence.
”They stood a good chance of pitching into us,” replied Andy grimly.
”The rascals!”
For his mind was still sore on the subject of the scuttled yawl.
On arriving at the fence Andy put down his load, and producing a key unlocked the door. The s.p.a.ce without the cave was deserted.
”Strange,” muttered Andy. ”Blight is generally anxious for his food.”
Carefully relocking the door, the lads made their way to the mouth of the cave. Here, too, silence reigned.
”Blight! Where are you?”
There was no answer. Andy repeated the call, but without result.
”Is he asleep, or is he dead?” asked Terence, and gripping their pistols the two lads entered the cave.