"I am bound to concede, however, that I do not augur the best from what little information we have to go upon. Have you noted, gentlemen, that still as is the night, we hear no sounds of carousing aboard the Walrus?"
'Twas true, and had been true since the last boatload of treasure was transferred to Flint's ship shortly after dusk.
"You think he will fight then?" I asked from my seat under the stern windows, whence I could see the lights of the Walrus, dimly yellow in the thick, velvety, tropic darkness.
"I hope he will fight, my dear nephew," my great-uncle corrected me. "I fear Captain Flint has outlived his usefulness to me, and if my fears are well founded, the sooner we can smash him the better I shall be pleased. But I make it a rule never to think on the possibilities of the future. Rather I prepare for whatever eventualities may arise and let it go at that."
"And are ye prepared tonight for treachery if this fellow Flint will be turning upon ye?" demanded O'Donnell.
Murray indulged himself with a pinch of snuff.
"Within reason, chevalier, yes. We have a strict watch, and the battery hath been cast loose and provided. More I can not do. The one advantage which Flint possesses is that I must wait upon whatever line of conduct he devises or his crew dictate to him."
The Irishman downed a goblet of brandy in a single gulp.
"Bah!" he cried. "'Tis easy enough for you to be talking the like of that. But I tell ye I am thinking we'd maybe better choose the now whether we'll push the fighting to Flint or pass out to sea."
My great-uncle shook his head.