"Unless the men ashore hear the noise of the conflict, sahibs," ventured Mulha. "Then their signals would be sent to the ships, and our task would be even harder. We should have to run the gauntlet of three fast-sailing craft, armed with guns. The fourth does not count, for she lies at anchor, her masts having been shot away." "Then we'll have to make a small alteration," exclaimed Owen quietly. "You will both back me up, I know." "Through thick and thin. Give the order, old chap, and I will certainly follow." "And I too, sahib. You can trust in Mulha." "We'll make a move, then. Pick up the stick, Mulha, and come along down to the beach. Wait, though; are the guns loaded?" "Both are fully charged," answered the native. "Then draw the bullets and powder. This job must be managed silently. There must be no accidental letting off of guns or intentional shooting. We'll use our cudgels. If a fellow runs at you, Jack, catch him a crack across the shins and then give him one over the head. Don't shout. Our game is to make as little noise as possible." They waited a few minutes longer while Mulha drew the charges from the guns. And even then Owen stood still, listening to the boom of the surf below, and trying vainly to discover the whereabouts of the men who had last set off from the native craft. But Sumatra was buried in darkness, which blotted out the forest behind, the ships, and the water. A thousand stars shone out from the heavens, and their reflections could be watched in the water. But they gave little light, and in any case insufficient to show the whereabouts of any of the enemy. "As good for us as for them," said Owen at last. "But there's just one other matter that has occurred to me. It will be pitch dark aboard that boat. How are we to avoid striking one another?" Mulha made no reply, but as they stood there in the darkness they heard the sharp sound of ripping linen, and guessed that he was tearing some part of his clothing. Then he came to each in turn and bound a strip of white material about the left arm. "One moment, sahibs, while I step away from you," he said. "It will do well," he went on, as he returned. "I can see the strips at a few yards, and that should be amply sufficient. Now, Owen Sahib, I will help with the load." They set off for the shore, our hero in advance, and Jack following closely on the steps of the native. And presently they were trudging across the sand, here loose and soft, into which they sank almost to their ankles. Owen had so far kept his face directed to the sea, to the spot where he imagined the ship's boat to lie. But now that the sand was reached he turned abruptly to the right and struck off along the bay. It was a strange manoeuvre, and at once brought low-voiced exclamations from his companions. "Are you not leading us far to one side?" whispered Jack, hastening forward and laying a warning hand on his friend's sleeve. "We should have marched straight on, to get to the boat."