“What’s that?” said Oakum sleepily.
“I find piece ob de crew, sah, all sit togedder in a corner, hatchin’ mutiny.”
“What?” exclaimed Oakum, whom these words galvanised into an excited state.
“Hatch de mutiny, sah.”
“I’ve good as expected as much,” exclaimed Oakum, giving his leg a slap. “Heave out, and let’s rouse the skipper. The beggars mean treachery.”
“We better go softly then, Mass’ Oakum, sah, or we get knife in de ribs.”
“Right, ’Pollo,” said Oakum; “let’s investigate first and see.”
Creeping softly up the ladder he just raised his head above the coamings of the hatchway, and peered cautiously round, but seeing nothing he drew himself the whole way out, and lay down on deck, ’Pollo following him on the instant.
“Well?” whispered Oakum, “what’s their bearings?”
’Pollo, for answer, crawled away into the darkness, and returned at the end of a couple of minutes to announce that they were all gone.