“Well, I should. Of all the old rascals that I ever heard of he seems to be about the worst. Why, he’s regularly mixed up with this gang. Did you hear? It seems that you can only get in and out at certain times of the tide, and nobody knows how to pilot any one in but old Joe Daygo.”
“Did you understand it to be like that?” said Mike eagerly.
“Yes, he seems to be the regular pilot, and comes to take this French lugger in and to steer it out among the rocks. Oh, it’s terrible; and we’ve got old Joe to blame for all our troubles. I wish we’d sunk his boat.”
“Shouldn’t we have sunk ourselves too?”
“Well, perhaps. I should like to drop something through its bottom.”
“I shouldn’t,” said Mike quietly. “Why not? It would serve him well right.”
“Because I should like to use it ourselves.”
“Eh? What do you mean?” said Vince excitedly. “Now, younkers,” said a voice behind them, “skipper says I’m to show you two to your bunks.”
It was a rough, hairy-faced fellow who spoke to them, though in the darkness they did not get a very good view of his features.
“To our bunks?” said Vince.