A new alarm seized Guy. Would his companions refuse to persevere in the quest?
He had no doubt of their general loyalty, but both had families in far-away Maine, and their affections made them timid.
Guy himself had a father and friends in America, and he, too, shrank from the fate which would be his if the captain should take a fancy to sail away and leave them on the island.
It was certainly a strange and momentous responsibility that rested upon this American boy of but seventeen years. Here were two men of middle age under his direction. He had hired them for a special service, but he could not command them to remain faithful in the face of the danger which they all dreaded.
“Don’t you think, Mr. Titcomb,” said Guy, on the second morning after his conversation with Frank Low, “that we had better work more systematically?”
“What do you mean, Guy?”
“I will tell you. Hitherto we have kept together. Would it not be well to separate and go in different directions, meeting, say, at four o’clock? It would not be so pleasant, but I think it would multiply our chances of success.”
“I am ready for any plan that will have that result. Do you know, I dreamed of my wife and children last night?”
“That must have been pleasant.”
“No; for in my dream one of the children seemed to be very sick with a fever. I could not help thinking of what might happen during our protracted absence.”