“Not so loud,” he enjoined; “it would not sound natural for shipwrecked men to be laughing. Play your part well, Ignacio. We must assume the sorrowful faces of men who have met with a serious accident.”
“Do not fear for me, my friend. I can assume the doleful pose to perfection,” rejoined the other. “Come, you have your dry clothes on?”
“Yes. I am already invested in my American uniform,” rejoined the other, with a chuckle. “If they knew what we were on board for do you think they would treat us with such hospitality?”
“I think they would show us the hospitality of throwing us overboard, my dear Guiseppi,” chuckled Ignacio.
The listening boys heard the door open and close, and the next instant, out in the cabin, they could hear the two castaways giving a woeful narration of their disaster to Lieutenant Parry.
“Signor Captain,” one was saying, “the tiller jammed so hard that before the poor boat could come about—poof!—the wind had blown her over and, behold, if it had not been for your extreme kindness, we would have been drowned.”
“And, in my opinion, that would have been a fitting fate for the rascals,” muttered Ned, viciously poking his head into a dry shirt as he spoke.
“Then you have made up your mind that it was all a trick?” asked Herc. “A plan hatched up to get a chance to board the Lockyer?”
“Isn’t that evident from the way they were talking?” inquired Ned. “I mean to lose no time in communicating with Lieutenant Parry; those fellows will bear watching.”
“It looks to me as if it is all part of the scheme to discredit the Lockyer boats with the Government,” said Herc.