He watched Fred and saw that the lad was doing his best to live up to the promise he had given the night before. Several times, beneath the gibe of a sailor or a sharp command from the captain, Fred’s face turned the color of a beet and he opened his mouth to speak. But he closed it again with a sharp click that showed he remembered his promise just in the nick of time.
Every time this happened, Bobby felt like clapping his hands. It was a great thing for Fred to do, he knew, and he was more than ever thankful for that brief talk the night before.
Once, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Fred mumble something to Mouser, sidling up to him cautiously in the course of his work, and he saw Mouser’s quick glance of surprise and interest.
“Good old Fred,” thought Bobby. “He’s wasting no time in passing on the good word. Now, if we can only manage in some way to put Billy wise, all may be well. Just a few meetings of the four of us at that secret rendezvous, and we ought to be able to think up some plan of action.”
But how to pass the word on to Billy—that was the question. How to do it when Captain Garrish kept an eye on him, Bobby, almost every minute that he was on deck?
And when the captain himself was not on deck, there was always his faithful henchman, Rogers, the second mate, to take over the task of watching him.
“They seem to pick on me especially,” thought Bobby gloomily, after his third attempt to speak to Billy had met with no success. In fact, this last effort had been almost disastrous, for Mr. Rogers, the second mate, had very nearly caught him in the act.
“I don’t know why they should think I need special watching,” Bobby went on with his thoughts. “I certainly haven’t given them any trouble yet. Not yet!” he added, with a sudden gleam in his eye. “But soon!”
It would have to be soon, he reflected, as he gazed out over the great waste of waters. The ocean had begun to take on a glassy look; here and there a block of half-formed ice slithered sluggishly past them.
Bobby had read enough about the Frozen North, that great stretch of forbidding country, to know that, even if they did escape into it, they might be marooned in its ice-covered wastes indefinitely. It might be months before they could return to their own country. And meantime their folks would perhaps mourn them as dead.