Deakin stamped out and ascended to the deck above.
Sagging down in the chair with closed eyes, Crawford relaxed utterly and rested while he might, wasting no thought on his own carelessness; he had been caught, and must face the future instead of the past. After a time his senses cleared again and the agonized ache slowly passed from his head and neck and nerve-centers, until presently he dropped into a light doze. From this he was wakened by a heavy trampling on deck, and heard the stentorian tones of Deakin bellowed forth through a speaking trumpet. Deakin had a voice like brass.
“Come back, come back!” roared the words, and again: “Come back!”
So the Bostonnais was calling in his men. After a little Crawford jerked up his head and came wide awake as Deakin returned into the cabin.
“Ha! The ice be on the move again, and if those fools o’ mine be not spry, they’ll get caught. Well, well—let’s have your ’bacca.”
Stooping over his prisoner, Deakin swiftly searched him, throwing weapons, pipe and tobacco pouch to the table, and finally drawing forth the Star of Dreams on its thong. During a long moment he hesitated over the emerald jewel, greed fighting in his large eyes against a stronger fear; then he reluctantly shoved it back beneath Crawford’s shirt.
“Not that, not that!” he rumbled heavily. “There’s wizardry in it, and I’ll ha’ no warlock after me o’ nights. ’Twas the star that brought ye here, yourself said it; and Moses Deakin knows when to let things bide. Nay, I’ll not touch the thing.”
With this astonishing speech the fur-pirate lowered himself into his own chair, facing Crawford, stuffed his pipe with the Virginia tobacco, and made a light. Crawford held himself in check, realizing in a flash the singular streak of superstition in his captor and resolving to see whither it tended. Nor did Deakin long delay in setting forth the matter, displaying a great confidence in himself, an assurance in his own deductions and suppositions.
“Fog’s down again and the outer ice splitting up. If the wind hauls around into the east’ard, we’ll be free soon enough now. Blood and wounds! A month we’ve been fighting this cursed ice. Now, Crawford, what’s to do with ye? If the ice stops movin’ to-night, I’ll have that bark of yours. Come over and hang Moses Deakin, eh? Let ’em try it! If they come, you’re here for hostage; if they come not, then ye lied to me and have a weak crew.”
Shrewd reasoning enough, and Crawford was keenly alarmed by it. Deakin leaned forward, clawed his great beard, grinned, and shot forth a direct question.