Читать книгу The Secret Chart; or, Treasure Hunting in Hayti онлайн

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“Shall we get out the oars?” Mr. Jenkins asked. “We should be near Spanish or Powel Key, and by rowing to the eastward it ought to be possible to run the land down by sunset.”

“You are right, and it’s to be turn and turn about for all hands. Unfortunately only two can work at a time, because we have no more oars, and the tricks shall be an hour for each man.”

From this moment until nearly nightfall but little conversation was indulged in; each occupant of the boat had been robbed of all his effects, and this, in addition to the outrage, was well calculated to make them feel the reverse of cheerful.

The wind, which had so much weight in it at sunrise, died away entirely about ten o’clock, and the heat was most intense. Not even the lightest breath of air came off the glassy water, and one hour was quite as long as the strongest could remain at the oars.

At three o’clock in the afternoon a well-wooded key was seen dead ahead, and two hours later the victims of their own charitable act were on shore.