“Yes, it is. I just saw him.”
“How could you recognize him in the dark?”
“It’s moonlight, and he’s got ways and actions you couldn’t mistake. He’s shaved off his mustache and goatee, but I know him anyway.”
“What does he want here?”
“The diamonds, I suppose. You know Watson said he’d got rid of them somewhere at sea.”
“Hid ’em on this boat?”
“Must ’ave. Watson was asleep. He ought to ’ave guessed the truth.”
While this whispered conversation was going on, the boys slipped on their trousers and were soon ready to move silently out on the deck and watch the movements of the midnight visitor. They walked around to starboard of the deck house and to the forward end. Here they stopped. Mr. Gunseyt was in plain view and busy. He was on his knees at the bow, pulling up from the water something attached with a small rope to the bobstay chain. While still engaged in this strange occupation he cast behind him a look of instinctive watchfulness and saw the boys almost as soon they saw him.
With a cry of alarm and rage, the man cut the rope with a knife and sprang to his feet. That voice was the last needed evidence to remove any remaining doubt from Guy’s mind as to the fellow’s identity. It was the voice of the “fog pirate.”
Gunseyt held in one hand a small package, dripping wet. With the other hand he drew a pistol.