Chapter Five.
Trusting a Guide.
The two lads made for where they could get a good view of the lugger swinging by a rope abreast of the starboard gangway, and as they passed along the quarter-deck, the shrill strident tones of the American’s voice reached them through one of the open cabin skylights, while directly after, Murray, keen and observant of everything, noted that the two marines of whom his companion had spoken were standing apparently simply on duty, but thoroughly upon the alert and ready for anything, their whole bearing suggesting that they had received the strictest of orders, and were prepared for anything that might occur.
Roberts gave his companion a nudge with his elbow and a quick glance of the eye, which produced “Yes, all right; I see,” from Murray. “I’m afraid—I mean I’m glad to see that I was only croaking; but I say, Dick, have a good quiet look at those fellows and see if you don’t find some excuse for what I thought.”
“Bah! Beginning to croak again.”
“That I’m not,” said Murray. “I only say have a look at them, especially at that fellow smoking.”
“Wait a moment. I have focussed my eye upon that beauty getting his quid ready—disgusting!”
“Yes, it does look nasty,” said Murray, with the corners of his lips turning up. “The regular Malay fashion. That fellow never came from these parts.”
“Suppose not. Why can’t the nasty wretch cut a quid off a bit of black twist tobacco like an ordinary British sailor?”