THE LONELY REEF
closely after the captain had cast his eye over the message and handed it to the ensign. Up came the anchor and the Wanderer crept slowly along the shore, the ensign himself at the wheel, and Quartermaster's Mate Jones keeping an anxious watch at the how. When nearly opposite the easternmost end of the island, which curved slightly to the south, the small boat was ordered lowered and Mr. Stowell, yielding the wheel, gave his orders.
"Jones, pick four men for a landing party. Arm with automatics."
"Yes, sir. Do I go along?"
"Certainly. Hustle now."
"Right, sir! Staples, Troy, Endicott and Masters! Get a jump on! Don't forget your cartridge belts!"
Four minutes later they were in the little boat, her tiny engine sending her bobbing crazily over the gray-green water. Ensign Stowell was in the stern sheets and Jones brooded over the engine. They beached near the little forest of twisted trees, leaped into the shallow surf and carried the anchor ashore.
"Draw your bean-shooters," directed the officer, "but keep the safety on. Come ahead, keep down pretty well and don't talk."
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