Then Jimmy scrambled to his feet with the water draining from him. "Back to the Adelaide," he said, "as fast as you can."
It was, however, half an hour later when Robertson was once more thrust into the skipper's room, and collapsed, with all the fight gone out of him, on a settee. He seemed to have fallen to pieces physically, but it was evident that his mind was clear, though there was now only abject fear in his eyes.
"Well," he said, "what do you want from me?"
Jimmy still felt a trifle dazed, and his head was throbbing painfully, but he roused himself with an effort.
"I'll tell you in a minute; but first of all I should like you to realize how you stand," he said. "The Oleander is a British ship, Vancouver is a Canadian town, and if I put the police on to the two men I mentioned they will have a tolerably clear case against you. You needn't expect anything from Merril; he will certainly go back on you."
Robertson's face grew vindictive. "He held the thing over me, but we never meant to kill the man. He tried to knife one of us, and, anyway, it was his heart that made an end of him. We didn't know until afterward that it was wrong. But go on."
"Well," said Jimmy dryly, "I'm not going to make a bargain with you, but at the same time I'm not quite sure how far it's my duty to work the case up for the police. In the meanwhile, I want a plain written statement as to your connection with Merril."
The man made a sign of acquiescence, though there was malice in his eyes. "I can get even with him, anyway, and it's a sure thing he'd have sent me up out of the way if he could. Get me some paper."
Jimmy turned to the skipper. "Call one of the prospectors. We want an outsider to hear the thing."
A miner was led in, and Robertson, who had been handed pen and paper, commenced to write. The skipper read aloud what he had written, and all of them signed it. Then Jimmy put the document into his pocket, and two seamen led the engineer to his room. Early next morning, when the breeze had fallen, a steward roused the skipper.