“Leave that to me,” Daniels assured him; “we’ll fix him up all right.”
“You don’t mean to hurt him? I don’t want to get mixed up in anything like that,” whimpered Duval, who was somewhat of a coward, as we know.
Daniels actually chuckled.
“Waal, you are a chicken-hearted fool,” he muttered, “but don’t you be scared. There won’t be no necessity of hurtin’ this Plumbo. I can recollect him from a time when I was here years ago. He’s soft-headed and talks poetry. Them two things most allers goes together I’ve found.”
Nothing more was said till they reached the wharf. It was dark and deserted, but in the starlight the dim outlines of the Sea Eagle could be seen as she lay at her moorings.
“I’ll bet a cruller that chap’s asleep,” whispered Zeb, as they crept forward cautiously.
“Hope so. It’ll make our work a lot the easier,” chuckled his worthy father.
But the next moment they had undeniable proof that the watchman was not slumbering. From amidst the ghostly outlines of the Sea Eagle came Plumbo’s voice.
“Who’s there so late? Answer up, mate.”
“Is that you, Plumbo?” said the elder Daniels.