“Bah! What is a giant if he sleeps and a kriss is swept across his throat, or a spear is thrust into his back from behind? They, too, shall die as quickly as these who sit near us. Now listen. But sit thou out on the deck, Miguel, so that thou canst warn us if either of those accursed dogs approach.”
The cook obeyed him silently.
“This it is to be. To-night these three here shall die in their sleep, silently and without a sound. Then we, all but thou, Nakoda, shall take the boat and go to the house. Both the Tuan and Mallet sleep heavily, and”—he drew his hand swiftly across his tawny throat.
“And then?” queried Nakoda.
“And then the gold—the gold, or our share of which we have been robbed—is ours, and the ship is ours, and I, Selak, will guide ye all to Dobbo in the Aru Islands, where we shall be safe, and become great men.”
“But,” muttered another man, “what if these black sons of Shaitan here of the Island turn upon us after we have slain the white men?”
Selak laughed scornfully. “The sound of a gun terrifies them. They are cowards, and will not seek to interfere with us.”
Night had fallen. The two white seamen, tired out with their day's work, had spread their mats on the poop, and were sound in slumber. Below in the cabin, the captain's wife lay reading by the light of a lamp; and Selak, standing in the waist, could see its faint reflection shining through the cabin door, which opened on to the main deck. Sitting on the fore-deck, with their hands clutching their knives, his companions watched him.
At last the light was lowered, and Mary closed her eyes and slept.