the shore should be.
Besides, it was in the plan for them to retreat.

We hauled the noses of the boats up on the shore side of a big shoal,
and all hands, with sacks, spread out and began picking. Every now and
again the clouds thinned before the face of the moon, and we could see
the big oysters quite distinctly. In almost no time sacks were filled
and carried back to the boats, where fresh ones were obtained.
Nicholas and I returned often and anxiously to the boats with our
little loads, but always found some one of the pirates coming or
going.

"Never mind," he said; "no hurry. As they pick farther and farther
away, it will take too long to carry to the boats. Then they'll stand
the full sacks on end and pick them up when the tide comes in and the
skiffs will float to them."

Fully half an hour went by, and the tide had begun to flood, when this
came to pass. Leaving the pirates at their work, we stole back to the
boats. One by one, and noiselessly, we shoved them off and made them
fast in an awkward flotilla. Just as we were shoving off the last
skiff, our own, one of the men came upon us. It was Barchi. His quick
eye took in the situation at a glance, and he sprang for us; but we
went clear with a mighty shove, and he was left floundering in the
water over his head. As soon as he got back to the shoal he raised his
voice and gave the alarm.

We rowed with all our strength, but it was slow going with so many
boats in tow. A pistol cracked from the shoal, a second, and a third;
then a regular fusillade began. The bullets spat and spat all about
us; but thick clouds had covered the moon, and in the dim darkness it
was no more than random firing. It was only by chance that we could be
hit.

"Wish we had a little steam launch," I panted.

"I'd just as soon the moon stayed hidden," Nicholas panted back.

It was slow work, but every stroke carried us farther away from the
shoal and nearer the shore, till at last the shooting died down, and
when the moon did come out we were too far away to be in danger. Not
long afterward we answered a shoreward hail, and two Whitehall boats,
each pulled by three pairs of oars, darted up to us. Charley's welcome
face bent over to us, and he gripped us by the hands while he cried,
"Oh, you joys! You joys! Both of you!"

When the flotilla had been landed, Nicholas and I and a watchman rowed
out in one of the Whitehalls, with Charley in the stern-sheets. Two
other Whitehalls foll