"And I own that I feel done up. Completely played out," said Jack, dropping his aching head on his arms. Indeed, a glance at his pale face showed that he was feeling the effects of the stunning blow which he had received, and that he told but the truth when he said that he was done up and of little service where more effort was required. "Then we shall have to make use of one of the native craft," exclaimed Owen, some minutes later, having meanwhile fixed his eyes upon the scene below. "I agree that for three men, one of whom at least is unused to much pulling, the feat of rowing a heavy boat like that far out to sea is out of the question, and, besides, one of the two is a youngster." "With plenty of pluck, Owen. Don't forget to add that," burst in Jack. "But you wouldn't. I never came across such a modest fellow. You come aboard, and hide away in odd corners, working like a horse at languages which are as dry as dust. Every one thinks you are a timid fellow--a bit of a johnny, you know--and some begin to take advantage of the thought. You put up with a lot, and then one day you select the very biggest of your tormentors and give him a jolly good hiding. Afterwards you go on just the same, still swatting up languages, still unobtrusive, till this day comes along. And now what sort of a tale have I to tell?" Jack lifted his pale face from his hands and looked his friend full in the face, with a quaint little smile on his lips which meant much, which spoke of the gratitude in his heart, and of more than that--of the faith he had in Owen, of a regard for him which was fast nearing the point of genuine admiration. "You don't reply," he went on earnestly. "But I will tell you. I say that you have shown pluck, and that I swear you behaved nobly when that beast charged me. More than that. You have taken up this matter in a curiously business-like way all your own, and I shall be surprised if you don't contrive to get us out of this mess. As for the boat. It is heavy, I know, but if you say that we must row it out till we are in the open sea, why, we'll do it. I feel better already since I heard the suggestion." But his looks belied the words, for he was still very pale, with black lines beneath his eyes, and a tired look in the latter which told of his condition. "We could do it if we set our hands to the job," admitted Owen sturdily. "But there is another question. Supposing we were followed. We should be nowhere, for those beggars carry sweeps. Didn't you see them in use as the boat left the shore below and ran through the surf?" A nod from Jack showed that he remembered, while Mulha gave an exclamation of assent. "The sahib has sharp eyes, which seem to take in everything," he said, dipping his face into his hands in a salaam, a custom which he had when addressing Owen. "My master spoke of a native vessel, and perhaps he can say of which he speaks and how he would use her?"