“We have the danger we shunned here on board.”
In spite of the feelings that had troubled him, the deep fervent love for his wife asserted itself at the words of Captain Studwick, and Dutch Pugh made a step in her direction, as if to be ready to protect her from harm, before he recollected himself, and recalled that there could be no immediate danger.
“What do you mean?” he exclaimed then, eagerly.
“That’s a larger one than I’ve seen yet,” said the captain, pointing with his cigar down into the clear water. “Oakum, ask Mr Jones to get up the grains, and let any of the men who like try to strike a few of the fish.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” exclaimed Oakum.
“Didn’t I warn you to be quiet?” said the captain. “Our safety and success depend on keeping our enemy in ignorance that we suspect him.”
“I beg pardon,” said Dutch, taking his double-glass from its case, adjusting it, and watching the fish play about; by its help seeing them swimming together, rising, diving, and chasing one another through the water, which was of all shades, from the faintest aquamarine and pale turquoise to the richest, deepest sapphire blue. “I am impulsive; but I will control myself. Go on. Whom do you suspect?”
“That Cuban, of course.”
“But he is two thousand miles away.”
“Possibly, but his influence is with us.”