“The captain says that there is no danger of wreck or storm; that he and his men will watch over you as if you were given over to their safe keeping, and all will be well.”
“Tell the captain that I prefer to sit up and watch the sea and sky,” replied the professor. “When I am tired I will lie down.”
The skipper nodded and smiled, and went forward again, while, after some minutes’ silence, the professor said softly:
“You are quite right to be doubtful, Yussuf, I mistrust that man.”
“Yes,” replied Yussuf in the same tone, “the Greek dog will bite the hand which fed him if he has a chance, but that chance, effendi, he must not have.”
The hours glided on, and some time, perhaps soon after midnight, the skipper rose again from where he had lain apparently asleep, but really watching the speakers attentively, and coming aft this time with one of his men, the sailor at the helm was changed, and the other went forward to throw himself down as if to sleep.
“Will not the effendi lie down and take his rest now?” said the skipper to Yussuf. “The day will not be very long before it comes, and then it is no longer time to sleep.”
Yussuf quietly repeated the man’s words to the professor, who replied coldly:
“Tell the Greek captain that he is paid to convey us to our journey’s end, and that it is not for him to presume to interfere as to the way in which we pass our time. Tell him we know the night from the day.”
Yussuf interpreted the words, and the Greek smiled and replied in the most humble manner that perhaps the English excellency did not know how bad it was for strangers to expose themselves to the night air. That he was anxious about them, and wished them to go into the little cabin to be safe.