“Why do you say that?”
“Because, according to your story, it should have taken them a week or two to fit out another steamer, and by that time you expected to get the river protected, and erect a few forts. Now what has happened? Instead of that they have chartered the quickest yacht they could find in England, and they have cut in here ahead of us. This fellow’s smooth talk about founding a colony is all balderdash. They’ve been spying upon us ever since we came here. The other fellows in England have taken their time in fitting up a steamer, or perhaps two steamers, or perhaps three. This chap has cleared the channel for them, and any fine morning you may see three or four ships in the offing, carrying perhaps three or four hundred men. Then what are you going to do?”
“There wouldn’t be anything to do, of course, if all that happened. Nevertheless, all you say is mere surmise, but if the worst came to the worst they couldn’t touch us. We’re doing nothing illegal. I tell you old Schwartzbrod assured me he would get from the new owners a legal document covering everything he ordered done.”
“But suppose he didn’t get that document?”
“‘We’re both blooming prisoners, that’s what we are!’”
“Oh, trust him! Of course he’s got it, but even if he hadn’t, we are doing nothing illegal. Here you are with your fortune made if you run three trips to Lisbon and back. You are quite safe, whatever comes, for you are bound to obey the orders of those who chartered the vessel. But apart from all that, we are out of British jurisdiction here, and you will be out of British jurisdiction at Lisbon. You’ve done nothing, and can do nothing, so long as you obey orders, that will render you liable to British law.”
“I don’t like the job a bit, Mr. Frowningshield; I tell you that straight.”
“Nonsense, man. If any one is in danger, it’s me, and I’m not afraid. You’re protected by your ship’s papers. You are under orders, and you must obey them. If anything is wrong, it is other people who must stand the brunt. It isn’t criminal to sail a ship from Southampton to the West African coast, and it isn’t criminal to make voyages to Lisbon and back. You are all right, who-ever’s hurt, so don’t get into a panic, captain, merely because a rich fool and his yacht appears to have discovered the Paramakaboo River.”
The captain, sorely troubled, but somewhat comforted by the confident tone of his comrade, was absentmindedly turning the picture pages of the Sphere, which he had taken from the wicker table at his elbow. Suddenly something caught his eye.
“By the Lord, Frowningshield, look at the date of the Sphere! 24th of May, it says, and we sailed on the 13th—a mighty unlucky day I call it. He bought this paper more than a week after we left! I tell you, Frowningshield, we’re done for. We’re blooming prisoners, that’s what we are!”