“Nay, I mean not the man who actually holds the spokes of the wheel, but he who guides the ship.”
Thorwald glanced at Gascoyne, whose figure was dimly visible in the fore part of the ship, and then looking at Montague in surprise shook his head gravely, as if to say—
“I’m still in the dark—go on.”
“Can Mr Thorwald put out his pipe for a few minutes and accompany me to the cabin? I would have a little converse on this matter in private.”
Ole hesitated.
“Well, then,” said the other, smiling, “you may take the pipe with you, although it is against rules to smoke in my cabin—but I’ll make an exception in your case.”
Ole smiled, bowed, and, thanking the captain for his courtesy, descended to the cabin along with him and sat down on a sofa in the darkest corner of it. Here he smoked vehemently, while his companion, assuming a rather mysterious air, said in an under tone—
“You have heard, of course, that the pirate Durward has been seen, or heard of, in those seas?”
Ole nodded.
“Has it ever struck you that this Gascoyne, as he calls himself, knows more about the pirate than he chooses to tell?”