About four o’clock I started alone, not permitting the dog to accompany me. I took the small axe from Mr. Millward’s boat, my lasso, some food, and a small gourd of water slung as a canteen over my shoulder. I told them I might not return until the next day; but that if I did not get back before the next night they might conclude I had been captured; and in that event it would be wise for them to embark in their boat and make the best of their way to Martinique. But Mr. Millward proposed a better plan, which was that if I did not return by the next night, he and Alice, provided the weather was such as to permit it, would take both boats out of the creek and anchor just beyond the breakers, and wait there another day. This was such an excellent idea that I at once agreed to it.

Bidding them farewell I plunged into the forest and made my way cautiously to the central elevated plateau, climbing the rocks by the path which I had first ascended. Here the open nature of the growth made the utmost caution indispensable, for I might at any moment now come upon the visitors, if they were still out pig-hunting. It was necessary that I should see them before they saw me. This made my progress very slow. Looking carefully about in every direction, and listening for every sound, I advanced a hundred yards or so and repeated the observation, concealing myself as thoroughly as the nature of the ground permitted. On the connecting ridge between the central plateau and the shore cliffs I came upon convincing evidence of the presence of visitors on the island. Here a pig had been killed and disembowelled. The viscera still fresh lay upon the ground, and a broad mark where the carcass had been dragged along led away toward the shore cliffs in the direction of Farm Cove. I had now little doubt that I should find the visitors at that place. It was fully an hour before sunset, and I thought it best to conceal myself and wait until dark before advancing further. I secreted myself therefore amid a thick clump of ferns, and patiently waited for the friendly shelter of the night.

The Spanish Galleon — Part 144