"Jumped the ship in the night with the dinghy," said Jarrow.
"Say, what's the joke?" inquired Locke, blankly. "You two look as though there was to be a hanging. Come on—spring it!"
"I wish it were a joke," said Trask.
"The truth is, Mr. Peth and the crew left last night with the small boat."
"Gone to a dance, or something, I suppose," said Locke, still in doubt about the motives of the captain and Trask.
"Maybe," said Jarrow, wearily rising, to yawn into the sun's face.
Locke stared at Trask, and finally realized that he was serious. "Gone to the island?" he asked.
"Mainland's over there," said Jarrow, turning and pointing over the starboard quarter. "You got two guesses. I'll bet on the island."
Trask now looked in the direction indicated by the captain and saw a low-lying ridge, barely perceptible in the morning sun, lifting out of the horizon. It was merely a dark streak against the edge of the sea's brilliance, dividing sky and water.
"Well, that's a fine note," said Locke. "What do they think they're getting paid for? To go away on marine picnics?"