“No one seems to be finding us,” he said, “and we can’t hold on forever. There’s something I must tell you, in case you should be able to last longer than I. That land of mine, you know, that Jarreth and the other fellow are trying to buy, well, they are not to have it. You will see to that, won’t you?”
“You don’t want to part with it?” asked Billy, not quite understanding.
“I don’t want him to have it,” the Captain repeated, “whether I—I get back to it or not. He doesn’t want it for a good purpose. I’ve suspected that always, though I have never been sure enough to make an open report. I was a coward, I suppose, and was afraid of being laughed at. People won’t believe there is a war within a thousand years of us, but I’m not taking any chances. There are no Germans going to settle down here, getting ready to help the Kaiser, the way they did for years across the water. They’ll find their time wasted on the Island of Appledore. It’s foggy a lot off this coast, the island is far out, there’s a sheltered, hidden harbour, there where the mill stream comes out; they couldn’t find a better place, they think, and so they’re trying to buy it. Smugglers and even pirates, they say, used to make it their landing place, but it’s worse rascals than either that want to use it now. Ned Saulsby has stood them off so far, but he may have to leave the work to some one else.”
His voice shook with a sudden earnestness that was startling.
“Promise me, Billy Wentworth,” he said, “promise me that if you’re the only one that comes to shore after this cruise, you’ll see that land is safe whatever happens.”
“I promise,” Billy assured him, trembling with excitement at the rush of new, strange ideas that suddenly came tumbling into his mind; “but, Captain Saulsby, of course we’re—we’re going to come ashore together.”
“You can’t always tell, boy,” the other answered, his very voice showing the weakness that was gradually overcoming his iron determination. “I’m not so young as sailormen sometimes are, and—even—the—young—ones—don’t—always—hold—on—forever.”
He collapsed sideways even as he spoke and would have pitched into the water had not Billy caught him. The wrench almost destroyed his own balance, but he managed somehow to cling to the centreboard and keep them both still upon the overturned boat.
It grew darker and darker, and the wide stretch of sea turned from blue to shadowy grey as the twilight fell. Billy and the Captain talked no more, for every last ounce of strength was being put into the effort of clinging to the boat. The seas rose higher and snatched at them as they hung against the side, more than once it seemed that their hold must be torn loose. It became plain to the boy, as he clung determinedly, with one arm around the old man and one flung over the ridge of the keel, that the boat was growing heavier and more water-logged with every wave to which she rose, that their one support was slowly settling beneath them.
Captain Saulsby muttered something in his ear, but it was a moment before he could quite understand the half-whispered words.