"Nor her crew," said Mr. Sparhawk.
"Nor her crew," said Anthony. "Poor fellows."
"Down into the sea they went with her," said Mr. Sparhawk. "Forty of them, in all."
"That were a worse fate than the Two Brothers," said Anthony. "For there, at least, the ship's company was saved and stood by until the vessel sank."
"They were saved," said Mr. Sparhawk. "Yes, that's true. But," and he cocked his head to one side with the motion that so made him look like a small, old, and very wise bird, "they did not stand by until the ship sank. I call that point to mind very distinctly. She was still afloat when they bent sails to the small boats and put away for the French coast, and so dropped her out of sight."
XXI
Anthony sat regarding the other with steadfast eyes; and in his mind he saw the ship's boats slipping away over the quiet sea, and the ship herself, left alone and silent, to any fate that might overtake her. The rats! The detestable, boring rats! This then, was how they had gone about their work! Upon a pretext, they would abandon ship,—no doubt in a given place,—and no sooner were they out of sight than the vessel and her cargo would be taken possession of by some waiting accomplices who came up, ready and eager. Then, away with the rascals to some safe place; both ship and cargo would be sold, and the booty divided between them. But what he would have said upon this point to Mr. Sparhawk remained wordless in Anthony's mind, for just then a man came up to them, a portly man who had the purple tinge of inconsiderate living about his nose.
"I caught sight of you more by chance than anything else," he said to Sparhawk. "I have been poking around after you all morning."
Mr. Sparhawk arose and shook the man's hand.