'I take my bearings,' he said, returning. 'Now we start.'
He struck off almost at right angles to the native track, but instead of entering the forest strode along at a moderate pace just outside its edge, at an average distance of thirty feet from the cliff. The rest followed him in single file, Trentham leading, Meek bringing up the rear. They had taken only a few steps when Grinson halted until Meek reached his side.
'Trousers!' he said in a falsetto whisper.
'What did you say, Mr. Grinson?' asked Meek, dropping his voice to match.
'Trousers, Ephraim--the Dutchman's. Didn't you notice 'em?'
'Well, he do have a pair, as is only decent, but I can't truthfully say as I noticed anything partickler about their rig.'
'Where are your eyes, Ephraim? I 'm surprised at you! He said he swam ashore.'
'True. "I swim strong," was his words, and I can believe it, his arms and legs being such.'
'D' you believe he took his trousers off, then? S'pose he did--wouldn't they show? If you 'd used your eyes, Ephraim, me lad, you 'd 'a seen as there weren't no sign of sea-water on them trousers. 'Tis my belief they 've never been near water since they left the washtub.'
Meek looked in a puzzled way into the boatswain's eyes. Grinson winked, jerked his arm in the direction of the Dutchman, then, edging a little closer to Meek, put his head over his mouth, and whispered: