Deakin stared at him a moment, then crashed out rapid orders.
“That means the ice be goin’ fast. Get out the skids and chock the pinnace into ’em for haulin’ across the ice. Lay food and powder in her, and muskets. Lay the little skiff overside likewise—we’ll carry her across to open water.”
“Be goin’ to leave the ship?” came the astonished query.
“Ay, bose. We be going to take Crawford’s ship—gold aboard her! We’ll work up to her i’ the pinnace, take her, and be back afore morning. Leave the three men worst down wi’ scurvy to hold the Albemarle and signal us. Ice won’t go out afore turn o’ the tide come morning. Sharp, now, sharp does it! We ha’ no time to dilly away. Chuck me down a coil o’ light line as ye go.”
Bose disappeared. Moses Deakin returned the dark fluid to its flask, placed it with the dish in the locker, then turned and stared at Crawford.
“Two hundred pound for ye in Boston town!” His barrel of a chest heaved in a deep breath of resignation. “No, I’ll take no chances. Two hundred pound is much gold, but a warlock is not to be tampered with. I’ll do ye no hurt, nor the star neither. None the less, I’ll not leave ye free to shout.”
A coil of line rattled down the ladder. Deakin picked it up, tore a piece of canvas from a dirty tarpaulin in one corner, and came to Crawford. The latter was firmly and efficiently gagged before he realized what was happening.
Deakin had thoroughly convinced himself that Crawford was something in the nature of a wizard, and that the emerald jewel was a thing of magic power. Only this obsession explained his reluctant decision to let the jewel go, not to mention the very valuable head of its bearer. That he should thus pass up two hundred pounds was an eloquent testimony to his sincerity. Crawford stirred uneasily in his bonds, wondering what was now about to take place.
“Our friend may have man’s reason in the carcase of an animal,” he reflected, “but so much the worse for him. If he had the brain of an animal, he’d be better off. If he doesn’t mean to hurt me, what the devil does he mean? And why this gag?”
As though in response to this silent query, Deakin called down two of his men. They freed Crawford from the chair, then lashed his wrists together in front of him, and to the lashing attached a length of line. His feet were left free.