Then, when the captain’s attention was temporarily elsewhere, they would make a break for freedom.
It was with this end in view that Bobby finally managed to get a word alone with Fred. It was about twelve o’clock on a dark and stormy night when Bobby crept like a shadow along the rail, holding fast to this support to keep from being thrown to the deck by the swaying, heaving motion of the ship.
That morning he had whispered to Fred when they happened to pass close to each other on the deck. At that moment the captain’s back had been turned to them, although he was in sight.
“Twelve o’clock—port side—near the stern,” was all that Bobby had had time to whisper, but by a slight nod of his head Fred had shown that he understood.
That night, when both were supposed to be fast asleep in their hammocks, they would slip out noiselessly, trusting to luck that no one would see them and that they might be able to get in a few words together without discovery.
They must not be discovered. That, each knew without argument. For discovery would mean that Captain Garrish would be put still more upon his guard. They would be separated for good, perhaps flung into prison, perhaps— But Bobby did not think any further than that. He only knew that they must not be discovered.
So now, silently and cautiously, two figures crept along the deck to meet at “the stern of the ship, port side.”
Once Bobby thought he saw a darker shadow detach itself from the shadows about the pilot house, and he stopped still, his heart hammering loudly, scarcely daring to breathe.
When nothing startling happened, however, he decided he must have been mistaken and moved on again, more cautiously than before.
Then, still clinging to the rail, he descried another figure coming toward him, and the height and bulk of it and something in the walk told him it was Fred.