"It is quite clear, Tom," she said quietly, "that we must get father off this ship at Unalaska. If the revenue cutter is there, you had better interview the commander, tell exactly what has happened, and have father placed ashore. If the revenue cutter is not there, the port authorities——"
"Will probably be too slow to act," put in Dennis. "And there's another thing—this ship has diving equipment aboard, with all things necessary for the work in hand. I want to go after the wreck of the Simpson, Florence: I believe that Pontifex will be only too glad to set us all ashore at Unalaska provided he could get the location of that wreck."
"But he wouldn't trust father to give him the correct location. He'd hold us, or hold father, as hostages."
Dennis nodded, frowningly. After a moment he rose.
"Dear, please go to your father at once, Tell him that it is absolutely essential that he give Pontifex the correct location of that wreck. Tell him that I shall handle the entire matter in such a way that Pontifex will ultimately get his just desserts; but for the present it is necessary that Pontifex should not suspect us."
"And you, Tom? What are you going to do now?"
"I'm going to see the skipper—I think he's on deck. If your father consents to do as I request, please call us at once."
Dennis hurried out to the companion way, and ascended to the deck.
Pontifex was there, indeed—tall and cavernous, caressing his curled black moustache while he talked with Mr. Leman. Dennis approached them with his heartiest manner.
"Well, gentlemen, good news!" he said warmly. "Do you remember, Captain, mentioning Dumas to me when we came aboard? That gave us an idea, and I believe that Mrs. Dennis will be able to communicate with her father. In fact, I expect her to call us down there at any moment to get the location of that wreck. Pretty good, eh?"