Then the trampling ceased and the sound of footsteps ascending the companion stairway could be heard. All this the prisoners in the cabin had heard in silence. As the sounds died away Tom turned to the others.
“It must have been that Chinaman! They——”
A sudden piercing scream assailed their ears. Their cheeks whitened as they heard it, so wild and ringing and appealing was the cry.
It was succeeded by deadly silence. What could have occurred? They all had a guess in their minds, but none of them dared to voice it. One thing, though, Tom was certain of, and that was that the cry had come from the deck. In that case——
But at this point of his meditations the cabin door was suddenly flung open and Zeb’s unwieldy form stood framed in the doorway.
“You kin come out now,” he said.
Was it Tom’s imagination, or did the mate’s voice seem less blustery than usual, and his cheeks not quite so red? Suddenly Lake’s voice came hailing down from the head of the companion stairs:
“On deck here, Zeb. We’ll be makin’ a landfall soon.”
It seemed to Tom that Lake’s voice, too, was subdued and quiet. It held almost a quaver. But he had little time for noticing these things, for, as they emerged from the cabin—with Mr. Chillingworth, who was now almost recovered—there came a sudden electrifying hail:
“Land ho!”