He traded on the ignorance of his hearers. The chief steward heard his explanation and looked at him fixedly. Christobal caught the glance.
“I suppose we shall lose an hour or so now?” he asked.
“Yes, sir. It will be all right by the time you have finished dinner.”
The meal drew to its close without much further talk. The American engineer was the first to rise, but the chief steward whispered in his ear; he returned to the table.
“Say,” he said calmly, “we can’t quit yet. The companion-hatch is closed. We must remain here a bit.”
“Do you mean that we are battened down?” demanded Isobel, shrilly, and her face lost some of its beauty in an ashen pallor.
“Something of the sort, Miss Baring. Anyway, we can’t go on deck.”
“But—I insist on being told what is the matter.”
The American knew little of ships, but he knew a great deal about mines, and, in a mine, if an accident happens, the man in charge cannot desert his post to give information to those who are anxious for it. So he replied laconically:
“Guess the captain will tell us all about it after a while, Miss Baring.”