The avenging barque sped across the Caribbean Sea, and, at the sight of that patched topsail, the little craft which they met flew left and right like frightened trout in a pool.  On the fourth evening Point Abacou bore five miles to the north and east of them.  On the fifth they were at anchor in the Bay of Tortoises at the Island of La Vache, where Sharkey and his four men had been hunting.  It was a well-wooded place, with the palms and underwood growing down to the thin crescent of silver sand which skirted the shore.  They had hoisted the black flag and the red pennant, but no answer came from the shore.  Craddock strained his eyes, hoping every instant to see a boat shoot out to them with Sharkey seated in the sheets.  But the night passed away, and a day and yet another night, without any sign of the men whom they were endeavouring to trap.  It looked as if they were already gone.

On the second morning Craddock went ashore in search of some proof whether Sharkey and his men were still upon the island.  What he found reassured him greatly.  Close to the shore was a boucan of green wood, such as was used for preserving the meat, and a great store of barbecued strips of ox-flesh was hung upon lines all round it.  The pirate ship had not taken off her provisions, and therefore the hunters were still upon the island.

Why had they not shown themselves?  Was it that they had detected that this was not their own ship?  Or was it that they were hunting in the interior of the island, and were not on the look-out for a ship yet?  Craddock was still hesitating between the two alternatives, when a Carib Indian came down with information.  The pirates were in the island, he said, and their camp was a day’s march from the Sea.  They had stolen his wife, and the marks of their stripes were still pink upon his brown back.  Their enemies were his friends, and he would lead them to where they lay.

Craddock could not have asked for anything better; so early next morning, with a small party armed to the teeth, he set off, under the guidance of the Carib.  All day they struggled through brushwood and clambered over rocks, pushing their way further and further into the desolate heart of the island.  Here and there they found traces of the hunters, the bones of a slain ox, or the marks of feet in a morass, and once, towards evening, it seemed to some of them that they heard the distant rattle of guns.

That night they spent under the trees, and pushed on again with the earliest light.  About noon they came to the huts of bark, which, the Carib told them, were the camp of the hunters, but they were silent and deserted.  No doubt their occupants were away at the hunt and would return in the evening, so Craddock and his men lay in ambush in the brushwood around them.  But no one came, and another night was spent in the forest.  Nothing more could be done, and it seemed to Craddock that after the two days’ absence it was time that he returned to his ship once more.