“Yes, but not in sight. I think Captain Brabant was afraid of the wind failing, and the cutter drifting in on the weather side of the island, for he has gone round to the lee side.”
Calling Minea, Mrs. Brabant hurriedly packed some necessary clothing, telling the girl the reason for such haste, and in a few minutes she sent word on deck that she was ready. Diaz was already in the boat, steer-oar in hand, and talking to Lester, who was leaning over the rail, wondering why his former comrade seemed so embarrassed, and impatient to get away.
Mrs. Brabant held out her hand. “Good-bye, Captain Lester. I hope you will have a quick passage to Levuka. Goodbye, Minea.”
She descended the ladder into the boat, and took her seat, Diaz lifted his hat, and then gave the word to push off.
“Good-bye, Pedro,” said Lester.
The Chileno looked up.
“Good-bye, Jim, old comrade.”
The men stretched to their oars, and the whaleboat shot out towards the dark shadow of the island as the crew of the Maritana went to the braces, the yards swung round, and she stood away to the eastward, and Lester, with a strange feeling of unrest oppressing him, leant with folded arms upon the rail, and wondered why Pedro Diaz had given such a tone of sadness to his last words.
The night was clear with the light of myriad stars, as the boat swept through the gently heaving sea. Diaz, standing grim and sombre-faced at the steer-oar, had not spoken a word since the boat left the ship. His eyes looked straight ahead.
Mrs. Brabant had never liked the dark, sullen-faced Chilian, but now there came into her heart such a sudden, horrible feeling of loneliness that she felt she would be glad to hear him speak.