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Updated: May 31, 2025
"What are you-all doin' thar, youngster?" said a voice in the darkness, a deep voice which Hugh recognized as Durgan's. "Trying to get out, of course," he replied defiantly, every nerve in his young body tingling with excitement. "What did you expect me to do, Durgan?" "Eh? Oh, nothin'. Thought you might ha' gone to sleep like a good little boy."
Had it been daylight, the boy scouts on picket duty would have seen the same long, low, gray craft something like a built-for-speed tug boat, which had surprised Captain Vinton when it first appeared among the Keys, now coming to anchor outside Durgan's Cove, in the darkness.
The man in oilskins called out: "Hey! You-all in thar!" Instantly one of the three rascals came forth from the hut. "Hello, Durgan!" he called, not at all loudly, through his cupped hands. "What's the news?" "Beat it!" was Durgan's warning answer. "Thar's a campin' party on th' island below here -I seen 'em 'bout ten minutes ago -old Cap'n Lem Vinton, an Injun, an' four or five boys."
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