"Shall it be to-night?"
The answer was in Spanish.
Again the English voice:
"He has come up. I saw him distinctly as he passed the second mast."
More Spanish; then English:
"You may if you want to, but I'll never breathe easy while he's on the ship. Are you sure he's the fellow we fear?"
A rapid flow of words from which Sweetwater got nothing. Then slowly and distinctly in the sinister tones he had already begun to shiver at:
"Very good. The R. F. A. should pay well for this," with the quick addition following a hurried whisper: "All right! I'd send a dozen men to the bottom for half that money. But 'ware there! Here's a fellow watching us! If he has heard—"
Sweetwater turned, saw two desperate faces projected toward him, realised that something awful, unheard of, was about to happen, and would have uttered a yell of dismay, but that the very intensity of his fright took away his breath. The next minute he felt himself launched into space and enveloped in the darkness of the chilling waters. He had been lifted bodily and flung headlong into the sea.