Sam Oakum followed Dutch as he staggered back, his knife entangled in the loose jacket he wore, and, dragging it furiously out, he was going to strike again, when a couple of the sailors seized his arm, and, frowning and swearing, he allowed himself to be held back, while, panting and white with rage, Dutch exclaimed—
“Coward, as well as traitor, you will get your reward!”
“Here, let go, will you?” cried Sam, furiously, making a desperate effort to get free, but the men held on, and Lauré interposed—
“Let him go, Oakum, let him go,” he said, smiling with satisfaction. “You can serve him out by-and-by, as you call it—some day when he is diving,” he added, with a peculiar look.
Oakum gave a savage growl like that of a bear, and glared at Dutch, who was now half forced below, hurt in mind, but very slightly in body, for Oakum’s clumsy stab had gone between his ribs and arm, merely tearing his jacket.
Lauré gave his orders, then Oakum took the command, and, the men readily obeying, the anchors were hove up, and, after their long stay, the schooner sails were once more shaken out, and the vessel began to glide gently along through the limpid waters of the beautiful bay.
During the next two days the Cuban kept a suspicious watch over Sam, but as he went direct at his work with a good deal of ardour, and knocked ’Pollo down for coming up smiling at him, he rose greatly in Lauré’s favour; and on the third morning, when the Cuban came on deck and saw Sam busily scanning with his glass the shore along which they had coasted, he came and laid his hand upon his shoulder.
“You know the next place, then?” he said.
“Well, I dunno whether it’s the same as your’n,” said Sam, with a grin. “Mine lies just under that bit of an island off yon point.”
“Where the rocks lie piled up like an old castle, and there’s a little cove only about big enough to take this ship?” said the Cuban.