"No, that wouldn't do. I wouldn't have those wretches see Cynthy for the world," said the Skipper.
"God forbid!" said I. My heart almost burst its bounds at the thought. "O Captain Schuyler!" I pleaded, "if you have a particle of power over that niece of yours, make her lie quiet until they are gone."
"Make!" said the Skipper, with much the same emphasis that he had used a little while before.
"There's something to be said for 'em after all," said the Skipper in a low tone, gazing down contemplatively on the strangers. "They're probably married men. Had to get away from home. Don't suppose they can stand it."
At this the Bo's'n turned on the Skipper with a determined air. His words let me into the secret of his life.
"Begging your pardon, Cap'n Schuyler, sir," he said, "but darned if you know everything, Cap'n Schuyler, sir! I've got a wife, and if she ain't a angel——"
"Darned if you know anything at all, sir," replied the Skipper in a thunderous whisper, "except how to be insubordinate!"
Cynthia had withdrawn to one of the stone projections and was sitting there, her head leaning back against the wall.
She looked pale and seemed faint. I went near her to see what I could do. She opened her eyes when she heard my footsteps on the rocky floor.
"They mean to stay," she whispered. "How shall we ever get any water?"