“You have my sympathy, friend, but you can’t leave the ship. Now, Miss Maxwell, come alongside. Boyle is going to be good. He doesn’t mean half he says, anyhow.”
As the canoe slipped out of the dense gloom of the ship’s shadow, Elsie heard the wrathful chief officer interviewing the Chilean sailors on watch on the main deck fore and aft. That is to say, he stirred them up from the bridge with a ritual laid down for such extreme cases. Not yet had he realized the exceeding artifice which the girl displayed in throwing him and all the others off their guard. She had maneuvered Suarez into the canoe with the fierce and silent strategy of a Red Indian.
The Argentine squatted on his knees in the bows, Gray placed himself amidships, and Elsie sat aft, holding the revolver in her right hand and the dog’s collar in her left. The American groped for and found a paddle, which he plied vigorously.
“Guess you’d better discourse,” said he over his shoulder, when the light craft was well clear of the ship.
“You understand Spanish, I think?”
“Yes.”
“Please tell Suarez to cease paddling and listen. Don’t move. I can trust you, but I may have to shoot him.”
“Best hand me that pop-gun, Miss Maxwell. The gentleman in front seems to have a wholesome respect for you already; anything you say goes, where he is concerned. I am taking your word for it his name is Suarez, but he looks, and smells, more like an Indian.”
“I forced him to dress in his discarded clothes. He may be able now to scare any of the savages we come across. But why should I give you my weapon, Mr. Gray?”
“Because I can hit most things I aim at, whereas you are more likely to bore a hole through me as a preliminary. Moreover, you have the dog with you, and even the wisest dog may bark at the wrong moment. You must have both hands at liberty to choke his enthusiasm.”