“Wrap your handkerchief round the bag, so it won't be noticed if any one opens the locker,” suggested Jack. “It will be safe enough then, especially as nobody ever comes here except ourselves and Pug.”
But on quitting the cabin, to their amazement they came face to face with the shark-charmer! He stood at the very bottom of the companionway, within a yard of the cabin door, and directly opposite the clock and locker.
“What are you doing here?” cried Don, advancing upon him angrily.
“Nothing, sab, nothing!” protested the native, dropping a running salvo of salaams as he backed up the steps. “Me only wanting to see big sa'b.”
“Then be off about your business, or you'll get the whipping you missed this morning. Do you hear?” And, without further ado, Salambo made for the deck, where they saw him disappear over the side.
“Do you think he saw us at the locker, Jack?” Don asked uneasily.
“I should think not. But even if he did he wouldn't be any the wiser. He knows nothing about the pearls.”
“True enough,” said Don, and so the subject dropped.
The cabin clock indicated the hour of ten when they turned in for the night. Somehow Don found himself unable to sleep. In spite of every effort he could make to the contrary, his thoughts would run on the pearls. At last he could stand it no longer. Leaping out of his berth, he struck a light and crept noiselessly into the main cabin. The companion door stood open to admit the night air, and his candle flared in the draught.
“I'll get to sleep, perhaps, if I take a look at them,” he said to himself as he made his way to the locker.