All at once the door was opened, and old Daygo appeared.
“Aha! you are finish, mon ami?”
Daygo nodded his head and uttered a low grunt.
“Good. I come on deck.”
Old Joe turned and went up the ladder, followed by the captain; and then Mike dashed after them.
“What are you going to do?” cried Vince. But Mike made no reply; and the other followed on deck, anxious to see what was going to take place, for that Mike had some project was very evident.
As Vince reached the deck he saw that Mike was at the leeward side, where a couple of men stood by the rope which held the pilot’s boat, while the captain and the old fisherman were walking right forward, talking earnestly. The lugger was sailing gently along half a mile from the shore in the direction of the south point; and Vince’s heart leaped and then sank as he faintly made out one of the familiar landmarks on the highest part of the island, but he had no time for indulging in emotion just then, for the captain turned suddenly and old Joe made for his boat.
“Mike isn’t going to jump in and try to go with him, is he?” thought Vince; and a pang shot through him at the very thought of such a cowardly desertion. “No,” he added to himself; “he wouldn’t do that.”
Vince was right, for all he did was to rush at Daygo, catch him by the shoulder and whisper something.
The old fisherman turned, stared, and Mike repeated as far as Vince could make out his former question, while the captain stood a little way back and looked on.