“Why, then,” Mr. Atkin goes on with the ease that he would remark upon the weather, “we’ll put the long boat over the side, and politely invite Captain Wray, Miss Wray, Mr. Waters and the cook or one of the men to step in. They can shape their course for the Azores, only thirty miles away, Joe, and we’ll shape ours for Europe.”
“But will you?” I thought within myself with my teeth clenched.
“I’ll take command, of course,” thus the bad man continued; “and when we are near the land we’ll rig up the life-boat here”—and he thumped it with his hand—“take some provisions, water and the money—”
“One tousan’ apiece,” breaks in the sailor.
“Take the money,” Mr. Atkin went on as if Joe had not interrupted; “and when we get ashore, every man will take his share, Joe—and scatter!” he said with a flourish of his fingers.
“But the brig shall find harbor too—they gives alarm and sends after us,” said Joe.
“Not after I have fixed the rudder and taken away the compass, my good Joe,” said the smooth Mr. Atkin; “so now you can let Jerry know what is expected of him, and to-morrow night—”
He made no finish of his words, though, but rising, walked slow away.
Ah, how slowly passed the time! but finally, Joe, with yawns, struck the eight bells, and the wheel was relieved by old Dan.
Surely I lost no time in coming from my hiding-place, and I sought the captain, who, without removing his clothing, had reclined himself upon a lounge in the cabin. I revealed to him in whispers that which I had heard.