"How can do? You no throw cargo oberboard?" asked the astonished Portuguese.
Without replying, Captain Restronguet gave an order for the emergency tanks to be emptied, and still greater was the pilot's amazement to find the vessel rising higher and higher out of the water.
Suddenly it occurred to his slow-witted brain that the craft he had boarded was a submarine, and since the only submarine he had heard of was the "Vorwartz," that had made the passage under cover of night, he came to the startling conclusion that he had boarded the pirate vessel. His olivine features turned a sickly yellow till there was hardly any contrast between his face and the whites of his eyes, and turning, he made a rush for the side.
"Steady, my worthy friend!" exclaimed Captain Restronguet, as Devoran and Kenwyn caught the Portuguese by the shoulders. "A contract is a contract. You've got to pilot my vessel over the bar."
"Mercy, senhor!" whined the fellow falling on his knees.
"Get up, you idiot!" said Captain Restronguet sharply, but all to no purpose; the pilot maintained his entreaties at the top of his voice.
"I believe he imagines he's on board the 'Vorwartz'," suggested Hythe.
"Perhaps," agreed the captain, then addressing the pilot he told him that he was in no danger, and that he was on the "Aphrodite."
But the man was so terrified that the words fell on deaf ears. His terror was increased by a sudden commotion over the side as his native crew, hearing the cries of their master, took their paddles and made off for the shore as hard as they could urge their cumbersome craft.
At last Captain Restronguet became out of patience with the craven pilot. At a sign from him Devoran whisked the Portuguese to his feet and led him for'ard. Here he again collapsed, grovelling on the deck. It was now nearly high water, and unless something were done another delay of twelve hours at least--possibly of days--would necessarily ensue.