“Come to me tomorrow noon,” said Captain Gay.
“Why tomorrow noon?” with a sudden frown.
“Can’t you understand? Don’t you know it requires hours to figure out so complicated a problem?”
“Oh, does it?”
A nod.
“Well, I’ll come in tomorrow. But understand, not a word of the true reckoning to a soul on board. Not even to Perkins or the boy here, who has no business to be listening to this conversation, and had better forget it. The island is mine!”
Captain Gay sat silent, merely drumming with his fingers on the little table before him. The Major gave him another curious look and stalked away, whistling softly to himself, as if something had occurred to puzzle him. Indeed, the Captain’s face was so set and stern that it made me uncomfortable, and I soon left him and returned to my own room.
The “Flipper” made good time during the afternoon, and before darkness fell those on board saw the island where they had labored so hard and endured so much, gradually sink into the sea and disappear.
The breeze held all through the night, and daybreak found the sturdy ship plowing steadily onward over the waste of gray waters. The sailors had fallen into their usual routine and performed their labors with mechanical precision, while the miners lay around the deck and watched them with the interest landsmen usually show when on a sailing ship.
At the stroke of twelve I saw the Major promptly approach the Captain’s room, where I knew the seaman was busily engaged in writing.