"I don't doubt it," said Nat, cheerfully taking a long pull at the water pitcher. Then he proceeded to pitch into the two tin pans which proved to contain, one of them a sort of stew and the other some potatoes.
"If it hadn't bin fer you and them other whelps," snarled Hicks, "we'd a bin in ther Sierras right now, instid of bin aboard this old windjammer bound fer the South Seas. What's ther name uv ther place again, Britt?"
"Why, ther island is called Ho-dear-me, or some sich name. It's in the Mar-kiss-us group."
"Oh, dear me, eh?" snarled Hicks. "Wall, that'll be a good name fer it so far as this younker is consarned. I overheard Morello telling Dayton a while ago that he meant ter keep ther kid in suspense till we reached the island and then take his revenge on him in some novel sort of a way."
"And no more than he deserves, the sneaking, young cur," grated out Britt. "I'd keel haul him. That's what I'd do."
As may be imagined, this conversation interested as well as dismayed Nat. After he had finished his meal and the men, with curses, rebound him and then left the hold, he fell to thinking hard over what he had heard.
"Well, it's evident," mused Nat, "that Morello is seeking some safe asylum where he can hide from the long arm of the law. I guess from what those two fellows said the island he is bound for is some place down in the Marquesas Group, although what particular island Oh-dear-me, as they called it, can be I have no idea. If only I could see an atlas!"
As this thought flashed through his mind, Nat gave a sad smile. It had just occurred to him that if he could see an atlas, he would be free. He resumed his reverie. For one thing, by keeping his mind busy he managed to prevent himself from dwelling too much on the utter apparent hopelessness of his position, for another, it made the time pass more quickly.
One thing cast a ray of light into his gloomy state of mind, and that was that from what Britt and Hicks had said it seemed that he was not to meet his fate till they reached the island. Nat began to hope that between the present and that time some sort of opportunity to escape might present itself.
If only he could get some word to his friends, but that was an impossibility, so absolute as not to bear thinking about. No, whatever was to be accomplished would have to be carried out by Nat himself. That much was evident.