Were they to be rowed far down the shore to some secret fastness where no other ears would hear the sound of the avenging rifles, and where, a few inches under the forest mold, their bodies would never be discovered?
Each stroke of the oars added to the remoteness of this possibility.

The boat was heading straight out to sea.

Perhaps they were to meet a less terrible death by drowning, an end which, though altogether unpleasant, held something comforting in it for Captain Plum.
Two hours passed without pause in the steady labor of the men at the oars.

In those hours not a word was spoken.

The two men amidships held no communication.