I jumped up directly.
“Is she going down?” I asked.
Jarette made no reply, but glanced quickly round to satisfy himself that we were not taking advantage of the storm to try and escape, while Mr Frewen rose as if he had expected to be called.
“You want me to come and see the captain?” he said quietly.
“No,” was the abrupt reply, and the men drew back, the door was shut and fastened, and we were once more in darkness, listening to the labouring of the ship as she rose and fell, plunging every now and then head-first into some great wave which broke over her and deluged the decks.
The faint streak of light disappeared from under the door-way, and we breathed freely again as there were heavy steps overhead, and I could tell that in all probability Jarette and the others had gone to join the man—or men—at the wheel.
“I don’t envy that madman his position, Dale,” said Mr Frewen. “His mind must be in a pleasant state of anxiety, what with the management of the ship in a storm, his doubts about his prisoners, and the pleasant little fancies he must have about the laws of our country.”
“I think we’re best off after all, aren’t we?” I said. “Hush!—he’s back again. No—it’s Mr Preddle.”
“Are you people asleep?” came from the partition.
“Hush! Go away,” I heard Mr Frewen whisper loudly, as after all I found that I had been deceived, for Jarette had evidently come back to spy upon and trap us; for, with my breath held in my excitement, I could hear the rustle of a hand upon the outside of the door, and then a faint clicking and rustling sound, as if the fastenings were being softly withdrawn.