"He has a boat," he said. "Let's go over and get it."
Blair put out a restraining hand.
"There would be no use," he said. "Mascola wouldn't let us have that boat to save our lives."
Gregory was already on his way to the Italian
dock. Blair started to overtake him. Then he glanced down the bay and his face brightened.
"Wait," he called. "Here comes one of Lang's boats now. Perhaps they will know something."
With the approach of the second fishing-boat came a crowd of curious fishing folk of all nationalities. Men, women and children clustered about the dock, imbued with a lust for excitement and a morbid desire to learn the worst from the latest mystery of the sea. All eyes were held by the fishing-boat as it swung about and drew near the float.
Blair shoved his way through the crowd and led Gregory down the gangway. Upon the covered hatch of the launch Blair's eye caught sight of two rolls of canvas, fashioned bundle-like. Nets most likely. He looked eagerly at the fishermen aboard the incoming craft. Their faces caused him to look again at the canvas bundles. Then he turned quickly to the man by his side.
"Why not wait on the wharf until they come up?" he asked in a low voice in which he strove to conceal his agitation.
Kenneth Gregory shook his head. He too had noticed the bundles on the hatch.