Jarette was resting his arms on the bulwark, gazing down at us, no doubt maliciously, but the lights were behind him and at his side, so that his features were in the dark, and as I looked up I could not help thinking how easily any one might have shot him dead and thrown him overboard. But I shuddered at this horrible idea as it flashed through my head, and waited for him to speak.
Mr Frewen waited too, but he remained silent, only making a slight movement as if to pass one arm over the bulwarks, though from where I sat I could not quite make out his act.
“You heard me, Jarette?” said Mr Frewen, after this painful pause. “You will let your people help Mr Denning and his sister down?”
Still the man did not answer, but appeared to be staring hard at the doctor.
“Mr Jarette.”
“Captain Jarette, doctor. There, you see what a merciful man I am. You do not know that I have been taking aim at you right between the eyes for the last five minutes, and could at any moment have sent a bullet through your head.”
“Yes, sir,” said the doctor, calmly; “yes, Captain Jarette, I knew that you were aiming at me.”
“Then why did you not flinch and ask for mercy!”
“Because I am accustomed to look death in the face, sir, when I am doing my duty, I am doing it now. Mr Denning’s life is in danger. Come, sir, you will let him and his sister join us?”
“In an open boat? No.”