“All right, my lad!” said Bowles. “I’ll be down in a jiffey. Nothing else gone wrong, I hope?”
“No,” said Dickinson; “I only wants to make a few arrangements; that’s all.”
In another minute the ladder was cautiously lowered, and Rex and Bowles joined their visitor.
“I say, gen’lemen, did you hear anything pecoolyer a few minutes ago?” was Dickinson’s first remark.
“Yes,” said Rex; “did you? Unless I am greatly mistaken we have been visited by a slight shock of earthquake.”
“’Arthquake, eh? Well, if ’tain’t nothing worse than that I don’t mind,” was the response. “You see I don’t know much about ’arthquakes, not bein’ used to ’em, and I felt a bit scared just at first, I own; but if so be as it’s only a ’arthquake, why that’s all right. If anything like that happens I like to know, if it’s only to keep my mind quiet. But that ain’t what I’ve come up here to rouse you gen’lemen out in the middle watch about; it’s just this here.”
And therewith he proceeded to lay before his hearers his own view of the state of affairs, pointing out to them the fact—already keenly recognised by them—that the moment for action might now present itself at any time, and explaining his own anxiety for a definite arrangement of some plan of operations, together with an agreement upon certain preconcerted signals to be of such a character as should be easily understood by the initiated while unlikely to arouse the suspicions of the rest.
A long conference ensued, at the close of which Dickinson quietly returned to his hammock with a greatly relieved mind. The others also retired, but not to sleep. They felt that the decisive moment was at hand, the moment upon the right use of which depended their liberty, if not their lives, for they were fully persuaded that if their first attempt failed they would never be allowed to have another—and, though still anxious, their recent talk with Dickinson had made them more hopeful of success than they had ever felt before. Hitherto they had always been haunted by a lurking doubt; but now they began for the first time to think that there really was a fair prospect of succeeding if they faced the dangers and difficulties of the attempt with boldness and resolution. Their chief anxiety now was how to free their two comrades; and to this they were as yet quite unable to see their way. Their anxiety and distress were greatly increased on the following day by finding that Ralli had given orders that his two prisoners, the skipper and Lance, were henceforth to be kept in close confinement altogether, with a double guard fully armed at the door, instead of being released during the day to work with the others at the shipyard. To be confined at all in the noisome “Black Hole” was bad enough, and their fortnight’s incarceration had already told visibly on the health of the prisoners, even when they had had the opportunity of breathing a pure atmosphere during the day; but now that they were doomed to remain in the place both day and night their friends became seriously alarmed; they felt that the sentence was tantamount to one of a slow but certain death. And the most trying part of it was that there seemed no possibility of affording any succour to the doomed men; no attempt to help or relieve them could be devised except such as must necessarily bring the party into immediate collision with Ralli and his myrmidons.
The Greek had now entirely laid aside all pretence of treating his prisoners with any show of consideration. They had served his purpose; he had made them his tools as long as their assistance had been necessary to the advancement of his ambitious schemes; but now their help was no longer necessary to him, and he felt free to gratify, without stint, the malignant and vindictive feeling with which he had from the first regarded them. One or two of them, too, notably Lance and Captain Staunton, had on more than one occasion successfully opposed him in his efforts to have things entirely his own way; and that also must be amply atoned for. So he now amused himself at intervals in devising fresh indignities, in planning new hardships, to be heaped upon the unfortunate Galatea party.
It was in this vindictive spirit that, on the second evening after Dickinson’s midnight visit, Ralli walked up to the cottage, and, unceremoniously opening the door, obtruded his unexpected and most unwelcome presence upon its inmates. As he made his appearance the conversation, which had been of a somewhat animated character, suddenly ceased.