ong will it take us to reach it?"

"'Bout two days."

"All right. Now Washington, you get some ship biscuit, dried beef, and
coffee from your stock in the galley and we will each carry our own
rations. I guess we can get through on that grub for two days."

"And ah guess a leetle lasses for coffee, Misser Harry," pleaded the
negro.

"How under the sun are you going to carry molasses, Washington? I guess
you will have to take your coffee black and without sweetening."

"Never was such a musser at guessing," murmured Washington, as he turned
into the galley. He soon reappeared with the rations, four oilskin
jackets, and a coffee pot. They divided the food and each bundled up
his supply in an oil skin and tied the package on his back. They were
now ready to begin their journey, and one by one they silently slipped
over the side and dropped into the boat below.

"Washington, you take the tiller," said Harry. "You know the way."

"Yas, sah."

"Do you know where to make a landing in the dark?"

"George Wash Jenks knows every inch of the coast hereabouts with him
eyes shut."

"All right then. You get up in the bow, Midget, and keep a lookout
ahead. Bert and I will row. It's not more than three hundred feet to the
shore."

The boys bent to the oars and the little boat shot across the narrow
streak of starlit water into the shadow of the rugged shore.

"Stop!" whispered Mason quickly, when they were within a few feet of the
beach. The boys backed water and brought the boat up within her own
length.

"What is it?" asked Harry, anxiously.

"There's a man on shore with a gun aimed plumb at us," replied Davis,
pointing into the darkness ahead.

"Him one of Misser Morgan's men," said Washington. "Him all right, ah
guess, maybe."

The boys started to row again when a loud command from shore made them
rest on their oars with great dispatch.

"Halt, or I'll fire."

The words came out of the darkness in deep, determined tones. The boys
could dimly distinguish the form of a man standing on a little bluff
above them, with his rifle aimed with disturbing accuracy directly at
their boat.

"We are friends from the _Mariella_," called Harry, "and are on our way
to join Captain Dynamite."

"Captain Dynamite passed through the lines half an hour ago. He said he
was travelling alone."

"Yes, that's right," answered Harry. "He thinks he is, but we want to
help him. Let us come ashore and I will explain to you."

"Hal