"Come you for a little exploring, David."
But when we had left the camp and were among the trees, his tone changed and he gripped me by the shoulder, whirling fiercely upon me.
"Lad, there be three fusils and five horns of powder yonder in the camp. Get them all safe stowed away in hiding, for we may have trouble from these men ere long."
I stared at him agape. "Why, do you fear—"
"Obey orders!" he snapped. Then, his face relaxing from its anxious tensity, he continued more kindly. "Aye, I fear that for one thing the ship is lost, David. When this cursed fog lifts we shall know for certain; but hope for little. I misdoubt that great howl from the dogs; besides, there was no answer to our cries or shot. All those aboard her were too weak to man the pumps, and I fear she has filled and gone down at her anchor."
I was about to make reply when he checked me.
"We have ourselves to depend on, David. Brace up, lad—remember that your sister must be saved by us."
"Saved—from what?" I repeated. "We have the boat and can make our way—"
"Peace," he cried. "You know nothing of the dangers about us, even in our own party. Do my bidding in the matter of the fusils and powder. Say as little as may be to anyone, especially to Ruth, for I may be wrong and it were not well to alarm her. Go now—I will return presently."
So in no little alarm and perplexity I returned, to find no change in affairs at the camp. The three fusils and the powder were easily secured and I placed them in Ruth's shelter in charge of Grim. The weather remained as it had been, the fog still heavy on the waters.