“I am a sailor like yourself, and a better one than you dare ever be,” retorted the runaway, little dreaming how soon he would be called upon to make good his boast.
“I ain’t saying nothing against that,” said the man, with a little more respect in his tones; “but I’d like to know what port you have sailed out of all your life that you can’t tell the difference between a man that’s drunk and one that’s drugged!”
“Drugged!” exclaimed Guy, utterly confounded.
“Yes; that’s what’s the matter with your mate. The last glass he took was doctored. You might pound him to death with a belaying-pin and never hurt him.”
“Drugged!” repeated Guy, some scraps of the conversation he had held with Flint at the boarding-house coming vividly to his mind. “What ship is this?” he asked suddenly.
“Why, didn’t you sign articles?”
“Yes, but I’m afraid I’ve been cheated.”
“No, I guess not,” said the sailor. “You came aboard with a clear head on your shoulders, so you’re all right.”
But Guy was quite positive that he was not all right. He would have given a month’s wages to know the name of the vessel he had shipped on, but dared not press the man to give a direct answer to his question, for fear that some strong suspicions that had suddenly arisen in his mind would be confirmed.
“I just know this is the Santa Maria,” said the boy to himself, at the same time casting a quick glance around the dimly lighted forecastle. “I know it as well as I know that I am alive. Everything goes to prove it. In the first place the men Rupert brought here in his boat are the same ones I saw playing cards in his house. Flint predicted that they would all be drugged and shipped aboard the Santa Maria, and things have turned out just as he said they would. But how did Flint himself manage to be caught in the trap? That’s what beats me. In the second place the mate, who witnessed the signatures on the shipping articles, is the same man I saw at Rupert’s, and who said he was an officer of the Santa Maria. I know him in spite of his tarpaulin and woolen muffler, for he’s got the same clothes on. Dear me! I wish Flint would wake up and tell me what to do.”