Part 69 (2/2)

”What, to-day, sir?” said the first boat-keeper.

”Do you think I meant to-morrow, sir?” cried Murray, who was boiling over with rage and despair.

”No, sir, of course not,” replied the man, in an injured tone; ”but you might ha' meant yesterday, sir.”

”Of course,” cried Murray--”when you were not on duty here?”

”We done our best, sir, both on us.”

”Yes, yes, of course, my lads. Here, paddle May and me along the edge of the lagoon.”

The man paddled the boat slowly along, and it was not until several blind lead places, where the boat could be thrust in amongst the bamboos, had been explored, that a more satisfactory portion of the surrounding watery maze was found, in the shape of a narrow way opening into another lagoon which looked wonderfully attractive and proved to be more interesting from the fact that no less than six ways out were discovered.

”Try that one,” said Murray, and the boat's nose was thrust in, when Tom May held up his hand.

”Well, what have you to say against it?” cried the middy.

”I only thought, sir, as we might be trying this here one twice if we didn't mark it somehow.”

”To be sure,” cried Murray. ”Don't you pretend to be stupid again, Tom.

Now, then, how are you going to mark it?”

”Only so how, sir,” said the man, with a grin; and as he stood up in the boat he bent down some of the over-arching graceful gra.s.ses and tied them together in a knot. ”These here places are so all alike, sir, and it may save time.”

This waterway wound in and out and doubled upon itself for what must have been several hundred yards, but the middy felt encouraged, for more and more it struck him as being a way that was used. Every now and then too it excited the lad's interest, for there was a rush or splash, and the water in front was stirred up and discoloured, evidently by a reptile or large fish; but whether those who used it had any connection with the missing man it was impossible to say.

”Shouldn't be a bit surprised, sir, if we come upon that Mr Planter's boat, sir, and his n.i.g.g.e.rs. Looks the sort o' spot where they might have built a boathouse to hide their craft in when they didn't want it.”

”At all events, my lad, it is one of their places, and--”

”Well, I'm blest, sir!”

”Eh? What do you mean? Why don't you go on?”

”Why, can't you see, sir?” said the big sailor sharply.

”No, Tom. Why, you don't mean to say that--”

”Yes, I do, sir,” grunted the man; and he took off his straw hat to have a good puzzling scratch at his closely-cropped hair, while the middy stood up to examine two lissome tufts of leafy cane which had been bent over and tied together.

”Oh,” cried Murray, ”anybody might have done that who wanted to mark the place, my lad.”

”Yes, sir,” said the sailor, grunting, ”but anybody wouldn't ha' thought to make a clove hitch, same as I did a bit ago. That's my mark, sir-- T.M.'s own. I'm T.M., sir.”

”Don't laugh, man,” said the lad pa.s.sionately. ”I suppose you're right; but it's horrible, for we've been wasting so much time, and come out again in the same spot that we went in.”

”Can't see as it's wasted time, sir,” growled the man. ”I say it's time saved, for if it hadn't been for my knot we might have gone on round again.”

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