“Yes. Take me to him, please,” answered Nick. “And I should be glad if you will have a boat ready to put me ashore when I have looked over things below.”
“Sure you shall have a boat,” assented the captain promptly.
CHAPTER V.
NICK HAS HIS OWN WAY.
Two men were guarding the top of the companionway during the colloquy between Nick Carter and the captain, but, at a signal from the latter, they drew aside to allow the detective to go down to the prisoner.
The man at the cabin door opened it as Nick Carter stepped forward, for he knew the detective could not have got below without special permission from the captain. Besides, he had heard enough of the argument on deck to know pretty nearly all that had taken place.
Paul Clayton was sitting on the edge of his berth, his chin on his breast, and evidently in deep thought. He looked up sharply as Nick Carter went into the cabin, a question in his glance.
Instinctively, he made an effort to hide the handcuffs under a blanket on the berth. Then he laughed bitterly and brought his hands forward to rest on his knees, as if defying the opinion of his visitor, whatever it might be.
“I beg your pardon,” said Nick, with a smile. “I don’t suppose you want to wear these decorations any longer than you are obliged. Let me see if I can take them off.”
Paul Clayton stared hard at the detective. He did not know him, now that he had removed the clothing and beard of Joe Sykes, the boatswain. But it seemed as if there were a familiar note in his voice.