Once alongside it was an easy matter to mount the gangway and meet the captain of the Meta awaiting them at the rail.
He was a tall, powerfully framed man, and in the glare of the lanterns he was seen to be possessed of a dark, stern cast of features. Frank’s first glance was not exactly a favorable one.
He shook hands.
“This is Mr. Reade, I presume?” asked the captain of the yacht.
“It is,” replied Frank. “And this, I presume, is Captain Poole? I have brought my friend, Mr. Wilbur Wade, with me.”
Poole gave Wade a critical glance.
“You are both welcome,” he said. “Come into the cabin.”
Without further ceremony they followed the schooner’s captain. The cabin of the Meta was richly furnished.
But both Frank and Wade noted one curious fact.
Every man of the schooner’s crew, and even Poole himself carried arms. They wore belts and revolver pouches.