The boy grinned, but he said nothing.
Once again the old man handed him the telescope.
“Now look! Be she Captain Fen de Witt’s Dark Blood?”
Hal began to understand the old drunkard’s interest in the brig. If this was the Dark Blood, the whole of the east end of the Island would run rum for a night or so, and, as he guessed, Ben’s stock was getting low.
“Nay,” he said at last, “’tis not she. Why, Master Farran, Captain Fen de Witt, isn’t expected for a week or more.”
The old man mumbled curses for a while before he spoke.
“Ah! but who be she?” he said, pointing out to the horizon.
“Why,” said the boy in some surprise, “’tis someone making for the West.”
The old man seized the glass.
“’Tis impossible, with the tide out like this,” he said.