"Which will be better than staying here forced to listen to the voice of a cur like you!" Phil replied.
"That little show of temper will cost you your supper," Benson cried in a rage. "I'll starve you into submission, if you turn rusty, so have a care."
"I reckon you've lost your temper because of not finding any more fools among the crew of the Essex!"
"I don't keep all my birds in one cage."
"But you've got all from the Essex in this one, and we two make up the list," Phil cried with a laugh, for he was finding considerable sport in thus baiting the villain.
"Better keep a quiet tongue in your head," I whispered, "otherwise he might come inside and see what we've been doing."
"I only wish he would!" and Phil flourished his knife in a manner which told what he would do if our enemy should be so indiscreet as to come within striking distance.
Benson stalked to and fro in the hallway when we ceased to reply to his jibes, and after half an hour or more we heard him descending the stairs again.
Then, by gazing through the bars, we could see that he had gone into the enclosure,—most likely to make certain everything was as he had left it; and we listened to the noise of his movements until all was silent once more.
"He's gone out in the hope of catching such of our men as have overstayed their shore leave," Phil whispered. "Now is our time to begin work with the rope."