“Fire’s done plum give out, er I’d give yer coffee,” he said apologetically.
“Never mind,” said Ralph. “I’d rather have water. You get fine water here on the——”
He paused an instant to give the old man a chance to speak.
“Island,” croaked the veteran, “Castle Island, we calls it on ’count the odd-shaped rocks and stuff.”
In this simple manner Ralph ascertained without more ado that he was on an island. This, at least, was a valuable bit of information. It gave him something to go on.
His host at this point appeared to wake up to the fact that, while he had been talking pretty freely with his guest, Ralph had not yet unbosomed himself of any of his affairs. The old man’s inquiries were minute.
Ralph told him all of the truth that he thought advisable. Of course he made no mention of the gems or of the smuggling episodes. To old man Whey, as the old chap said he was to be called, he accounted for his presence on the island by saying that his motor boat had run aground.
The old man inquired where the accident had taken place, and Ralph quickly placed him in possession of all the details.
“That’s nuffin’,” declared old man Whey; “we’ll have her off there in mighty quick time. Lucky thing you landed in Deer Bay; otherwise you’d have got in bad waters. If you are lying where I think you are, you can come pretty nigh gettin’ off under your own power.”
It had already become clear that old man Whey knew the river like a book. To Ralph it appeared that here was a good man to tie to.