Ned was watching me curiously. I was grieved to see by the light of the flickering lantern that his face looked haggard and drawn.
I told them how my bandage had slipped down, and had enabled me to spy to a certain extent upon the doings of our captors.
“That was a slice of luck, and no mistake,” said the gunner, rubbing his hands; “and if ever we succeed in circumventing these villains, your knowledge may prove to be most important.”
“What do you think they’re going to do with us, Mr. Triggs?” I asked.
“I’m just as much puzzled as ever,” answered the gunner. “They want to get a ransom for us, I s’pose, but ’tis the most mysterious business I was ever mixed up in.”
“The owdacious swabs!” put in Ned angrily. “I only hope that our skipper will make a clean sweep of ’em when he hears tell of their little game.”
I condoled with my coxswain as to the vile treatment he had received at the instigation of the mule-driver.
Ned thanked me warmly for my sympathy.
“Of course, I knew you’d feel for me, sir,” he said; “but don’t you trouble your head any more about the matter, but try to forget it. I’d do the same myself, but my back is that stiff and sore I’m blowed if I can.”
“Now just a word or two of advice, if you’ll excuse it,” observed the gunner, “and then we must try to get forty winks, for it’s no good blinking the matter we’re all as tired out and exhausted as we can be. The advice is this: We had better not be seen talking by any one. If any member of the crew comes down on this deck, mum’s the word! Take no notice of any insults or bad treatment. Try to look as if you liked it. Keep your weather eyes lifting, and your ears open, but look as stupid as owls. Now, good-night, and God bless you both!”