“Yes, we’ll be quick,” said Mr Frewen.
“Is anything the matter?” came in a loud whisper.
“Oh lor’! Here I goes,” groaned Bob Hampton.
“No, no; it’s all right,” I whispered. “That was only Mr Preddle.”
“I thought it was Frenchy, sir.”
“Hush! No, nothing wrong. Help come,” whispered Mr Frewen. “Wait!”
Then coming back to the window—
“Now, Hampton, what can you suggest?”
“Well, sir, I’ve been thinking that if you gents— Pst!”
He ceased whispering in at the cabin-window, for just then we heard steps overhead as if two people were walking along the deck, and directly after I could make out voices in eager conversation fairly loud for a few moments, and then they died away, and I knew by the sounds that the speakers had gone right aft. Then Jarette’s voice was heard making inquiries of the man at the wheel, to whom he stopped talking for a few minutes, which seemed to extend into an age of anxiety to me who listened so anxiously and in such dread lest the scoundrel should return and lean over the bulwark, or run his hand along, feel the rope, and so discover poor Hampton. Then I felt sure that he would have no hesitation in cutting him adrift, and that meant death to a brave and true man.