There came a welcome diversion, however, in the shape of
three sailors, bearing trays of food, which were placed on
the deck in front of the prisoners, who were sitting or
lying in the shade of an awning, for the sun was very hot.
"Ha! Bless my napkin-ring!" cried Mr. Damon with something
of his former gaiety. "Here's a meal, at all events. They
don't intend to starve us. Eat hearty, every one."
"Yes, we need to keep up our strength," observed Captain
Weston.
"Why?" inquired Mr. Sharp.
"Because we're going to try to escape!" exclaimed Tom in a
low voice, when the sailors who had brought the food had
gone. "Isn't that what you mean, captain?"
"Exactly. We'll try to give these villains the slip, and
we'll need all our strength and wits to do it. We'll wait
until night, and see what we can do."
"But where will we escape to?" asked Mr. Swift. "The
island will afford no shelter, and--"
"No, but our submarine will," went on the sailor.
"It's in the possession of the Brazilians," objected Tom.
"Once I get aboard the Advance twenty of those brown-
skinned villains won't keep me prisoner," declared Captain
Weston fiercely. "If we can only slip away from here, get
into the small boat, or even swim to the submarine, I'll
make those chaps on board her think a hurricane has broken
loose.
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