"Yes," replied Trask boldly. There was something hopeful in the tone of the other. If it had been Peth, Trask would not have admitted his own identity.
"Then it's all right," said the other. "I'm Bevins. Where's the skipper?"
"In his room asleep," answered Trask, still cautious, and not to be fooled into telling the truth. If they expected Jarrow, it would puzzle them to be told the captain was not there to meet them.
"Look out for him," said Bevins, hastily. "He's fixin' to do for ye. We've run away from Mr. Peth. Shope and Pennock are here with me. We don't want no trouble. We want to come back aboard for duty. But have an eye out for the skipper. He's lookin' for Mr. Peth to come out, but we got the dinghy."
"We stood in with him for gold," said another voice, pleadingly. "But when it come to makin' trouble for you folks, we ain't for it."
"Come up closer so I can look into the boat," commanded Trask.
"You better lock the skipper in his room," said Bevins. "We don't want to come aboard if he's going to make a row. He's a slick one, and he thought we stood in with him—thought we'd come out with Mr. Peth to put you ashore, but we give 'em the dish—Mr. Peth and the nigger. You better git the skipper or he'll be down on ye."
They pulled the boat in, and under Trask's orders walked about the bottom, to prove that there was no one lying hidden under their feet.
"You may come aboard, Bevins," said Trask finally. "But the others stay where they are a few minutes. If they attempt to rush, they'll get shot."
"Git the skipper before I come," begged Bevins. "Git him while he's asleep. Don't take no chances. He's up to maroon ye all."