“Oh, go to the dickens while we get our pickin’s,” growled out young Zeb Daniels, at which specimen of wit his father laughed heartily, though in a subdued way.
“Now, then, boys,” said Daniels, as Plumbo’s footsteps died away, “get busy and spile this cruise for that bunch of fine gentlemen. We’ll show ’em what it means to try to take folks’ livings away.”
CHAPTER XX.—FRANK’S BATTLE.
It was about midnight that Frank, for no reason that he could explain, awakened with a vague feeling of uneasiness. Try as he would he could not compose himself to sleep again, but lay awake, struggling with a sort of intuitive suspicion that all was not well with the Sea Eagle.
At last, so strong did his conviction become, that, although he was ridiculing his fears all the time, he arose and dressed himself, and then started out for the wharf. For a moment he thought he would rouse Harry, who slept on another bed in the same room; but in the end he decided not to disturb his brother’s repose. Perhaps he had a vague fear of ridicule, but at any rate Frank crept out of the hotel alone and made his way silently down the dark and empty streets.
“This is certainly a fool’s errand I’m going on,” he told himself; “I suppose that my reward for my pains will be to hear some more of Plumbo’s poetry, and yet—and yet, I can’t help it. I couldn’t sleep another wink unless I was sure that the Sea Eagle was all right.”
Musing thus, and minimizing his own fears, Frank came in due time to the wharf. He made his way down it and was about to step forward to descend the ladder that led to the Sea Eagle’s deck, when he heard something that made him pause. He recognized the sound instantly.
It was the rasp of a file!
“My gracious! Somebody is tampering with the Sea Eagle!” exclaimed the boy to himself. “My fears were not as groundless as I thought them, after all. I wonder if that rascal Duval——”
The current of his thoughts was suddenly checked at this point by another noise near at hand. It seemed to come from behind a big pile of boxes on the wharf.