"We shall have to keep a sharp look-out on our friend, Don Fernandez," he said, after he had lit a cigar. "I don't trust him a little bit."
"How so?" I inquired. "What has he been up to now?"
"Nothing very much that I know of," the captain replied, "but I have a sort of notion that he has been endeavouring to sound some of the men as to the chance of seizing the boat. He has said nothing outright, but Reston (the boatswain) tells me he dropped a hint to him that a large reward would be forthcoming if he and his niece were helped ashore again. He has a most persuasive manner, unlimited wealth, and there's not very much, I fancy, that he would stop at."
"I suppose you can place implicit trust in your officers and crew?" I said.
"Implicit trust," he answered. "But with a man like Fernandez aboard one cannot take too many precautions."
"You are right," I replied. "At the same time, I must admit that I like the man. More, perhaps, than I do—well, another gentleman with whom we are both acquainted."
Ferguson understood my meaning.
"I understand," he replied. "And what's more I agree with you."
When we had chatted for upwards of an hour I bade him good-night, and went below to my cabin to fall asleep and dream that Fernandez had seized the boat and was going to make me walk the plank at daylight.
In two days we were due to arrive at the island. From the progress we were making, and from the glimpse I had of the chart, it struck me that we should reach San Diaz between six and seven o'clock in the evening.