“What’s the matter?” asked Alan.
“Matter?” echoed Jack. “They must be sending the whole Russian Navy here in detachments to capture our unworthy selves. There’s a second boat coming from the east—nearer by two miles than the yacht. If I hadn’t been all taken up with the other from the moment I climbed here I’d have seen her before.”
“Is she a yacht, too?”
“No. Looks like a passenger tramp. Dirty and—”
“Merchantman, maybe.”
“No. She’s got guns on her—”
“Merchantman fitted out for privateersman, probably. That’s the sort of craft Russia would be likeliest to send to a secret prison like this. What flag does—”
“No flag at all. Neither of them. They’re both making for the rock, full steam, and from opposite sides. Neither can see the other, I suppose. I—”
“From opposite sides? That doesn’t look like a joint expedition. One of those ships isn’t Russian. But which?”
Jack had clambered down and stood by Alan’s side.