“No doubt,” answered the captain. “But listen.”
He held up one warning finger and bent forward so that he might be able to hear the better. The conversation between those in the other room was very low; but Ethan fancied that now and then he detected an English expression.
“Why,” whispered he, “they seem to be talking English.”
“That is what I thought,” said the captain. “Can you make out what they are saying?”
Ethan listened for a moment, then shook his head.
“No,” said he. “But oddly enough I imagine that I recognize familiar voices among them. There, do you hear that one rather lighter than the rest? It sounds to me something like the voice of a boy whom I knew in Philadelphia. His name was Wheelock, and his family were Tories.”
John Paul Jones appeared to be greatly interested.
“I had fancied the same thing myself,” admitted he. “There is one voice among them that I’ve thought sounded strangely like—whom do you think?”
Ethan leaned over and grasped his arm tightly.
“Not Blake!” whispered he.