“Hush! what’s that?” said Vince. “Only a seabird calling somewhere off the water.”
“No, it isn’t,” whispered Vince. “One of the men wouldn’t have answered a seabird like that. It’s a boat coming from somewhere out yonder.”
“No boat would come through such a dark night, with all these dangerous currents among the rocks.”
But a minute later a boat did glide out of the darkness, a rope was thrown over the bulwarks, made fast, and as a man climbed over on to the deck the captain came out of his cabin and went forward to where the fresh comer was standing.
It was so dark that they could not make out what he was like, but in the stillness every word spoken could be heard; and they recognised the voice directly, as, in answer to a growl from the captain about being late, the man said,—“Been here long enough ago, Skipper Jarks, if it had been any good, but she don’t rise to it to-night. I’ve been hanging about ever so long, but she don’t touch what she should. There won’t be enough water for you on the rocks to-night by a foot.”
“Peste!” ejaculated the captain; “and I vant to go. But after an hour, vat den?”
“Be just as she is now, skipper. Wind’s been agen it since sundown, and kep’ the water back: you won’t get off to-night.”
“Bah!” ejaculated the captain angrily; but he changed his manner directly: “Ah, vell, my friend Daygo, ve must vait, eh? You vill stay vis me here?”
“Nay,” said the man. “I’ll have to go back. I’m cruising about round the island a-looking for them two young shavers.”
The captain turned his head sharply round and looked aft; but, keen as his sea-going eyes were, the presence of the boys passed unnoticed, and, probably concluding that they were farther aft, the captain said in a lower tone, but still perfectly audible.