“Bring them up, Garvin. Hurry; we’ve got to be up there before it’s light.”
Brack was speaking again in a loud whisper. Garvin’s great bulk slipped past me toward the after deck, his feet shuffling along the deck to make as little noise as possible. He was breathing swiftly and heavily as a man breathes under the stress of great excitement.
I now saw that the captain was standing at one of the sea-ladders and at the other was a man whose figure I did not recognize as belonging to any of the men on board. It was a spare, wiry figure, with a poise that belonged to no ordinary sailor. I moved a little closer. Now I saw that the man carried a rifle in the hollow of his arm. I looked at Brack; he was armed likewise.
That movement proved my undoing.
“Who the devil’s that?” demanded the wiry man hoarsely.
Brack leaned forward and looked at me steadily for several seconds.
“Don’t you sleep soundly, Pitt?” he asked.
“Not very,” I replied.
He continued to look at me steadfastly. Presently he began to grin.
“That is unfortunate for you,” he said at last.