“And if he could be spared,” cried Rodd, “I should like for us to have Joe Cross.”
“Now, look here,” cried Uncle Paul, “this is taking a weak man at his weakest time. Really, Count, we ought not to go. Look at what your position would be in case anything should happen.”
“Nothing is likely to happen,” said the Count, “and if it did, though my brig is still helpless I should have your vessel, with about half your crew, and my own. So now not another word.”
“There,” said the doctor, “I am afraid I am beaten.”
Chapter Forty One.
Reptilian.
It was just about the same time as the Spaniard had chosen for his other visits, after dark, that his boat was again rowed across to the schooner’s anchorage, the man asking for the doctor.
“I’m here,” said Uncle Paul, going to the side, from where he had been talking to the Count. “What’s the matter?”