This was not an unwise speech in view of the fact that we had racked our brains in vain during four hours or more, and it was with a most profound sense of relief that I gave over the mental effort.
“Is it all arranged?” the old gunner asked in a hoarse whisper, when I passed near where he was sitting.
“We have agreed upon nothing,” I replied. “At the last moment matters may turn in our favor.”
“Does the traitor know what we are figuring on?”
“I suppose Alec’s brother has given him a hint of how matters stand.”
“Why not lounge around below, and see how the land lays?”
“Look here, Master Boyd,” I said, seized by a sudden idea, “why should you not take this matter in hand? You can make a success where we would meet only with failure.”
“I’m not minded to dirty my hands more than is necessary,” the old man replied emphatically. “If traitors are to be turned loose instead of hanged, let some one else work the traverse.”
There was little thought in my mind that I might be able to convince Silas Boyd it was his duty to help us yet further than had been promised; but, having nothing better to do, I set about the task, and by virtue of soft words, mingled with much flattery, I finally succeeded so far that he said, as if angry because of having yielded:—
“I’ll make a try for it, lad, though it’s hard lines when a man at my time of life sets about lendin’ traitors a helpin’ hand. Get into the boat, an’ see that Alec is with you, for if it so be I succeed, we’ll need to get away in a hurry.”