“This is I. Be cautious how you act, Mr. Marble. The savages are in possession of the upper deck, and I am their prisoner. The people are all below, with a strong watch at the fore-scuttle.”
I heard a long, low whistle, within the companion-way doors, which it was easy enough to interpret into an expression of the chief-mate's concern and wonder. For myself, I saw no use in attempting concealment, but was resolved to speak out fully, even though it might be at the risk of betraying some of my feelings to my captors, among whom I thought it probable there might be more than one who understood something of English.
“We miss Captain Williams below here,” Marble resumed, after a short delay. “Do you know anything of his movements?”
“Alas! Mr. Marble—poor Captain Williams can be of no service to any of us, now.”
“What of him?” was demanded in a clear, full voice and as quick as lightning. “Let me know, at once.”
“He has been killed by a blow from a club, and is thrown overboard.”
A dead silence followed, and it lasted near a minute.
“Then it has fallen to my duty to decide what is to be done!” Marble at length exclaimed. “Miles, are you at liberty?—dare you say what you think?”
“I am held here, by two of the savages, whose prisoner I certainly am. Still, Mr. Marble, they encourage me to speak, but I fear some among them understand what we say.”
There was another pause, during which the mate was doubtless reflecting on the best course to pursue.