Tom Dennis began to whistle cheerily. Florence, who had filled her father's pipe, put it between his lips and held a match while he puffed. As she did so, the door behind her was flung open, and into the cabin came Tom, propelling before him the cabin boy Jerry.
"Heard everything you said, Florence," said Dennis, surveying the shrinking boy. "Now, Jerry, what d'you mean by spying on us? Who set you in there to listen?"
"Nobody." Jerry began to blubber. "But that nigger Mendez kicked me downstairs, and I seen him comin', and I ducked in there. I didn't mean to hear nothing honest! And I won't tell them, neither, if ye let me go. Don't whale me!"
"Lord, Jerry, I wouldn't hurt you!" said Dennis; but he frowned as he spoke. He looked at Florence and gestured helplessly. If the boy told—their game was done!
"Jerry," said the girl, suddenly stooping and kissing the gaping boy, "do you like Captain Pontifex?"
"No, I don't! I hate him! And if we ever get anywhere, I'm going to run away."
"He hates us, Jerry. Do you want to go away from this ship with us?
"You bet, ma'am. Can I?"
"If you don't say a word to anyone about what you just heard. If you do, Mr. Dennis and I will suffer, and you'll get no chance to run away."
"Cross m'heart, ma'am." And Jerry earnestly suited action to word. A sudden excitement shone in his eyes. "They've double-crossed you all the time. I know; I've heard 'em talk! They're goin' to give you to that man Frenchy, that used to be cook. I never seen him, but they talk about him lots."