"Anderson," I said hurriedly, "you must have noticed that Mr. Brande is an eccentric—"
"Pardon me, sir; it is not my business to comment upon my owner."
"I did not ask you to comment upon him, sir," I said sharply. "It is I who shall comment upon him, and it is for you to say whether you will undertake to earn my money by waiting in this harbour till I am ready to sail back with you to England."
"Have you anything more to say, sir?" Anderson asked stiffly.
"I presume I have said enough."
"If you have nothing more to say I must ask you to leave the bridge, and if it were not that you are leaving the ship this moment, I would caution you not to be impertinent to me again."
He blew his whistle, and a steward ran forward.
"Johnson, see Mr. Marcel's luggage over the side at once." To me he said shortly: "Quit my ship, sir."
This trivial show of temper, which, indeed, had been provoked by my own hasty speech, turned my impatience into fury.
"Before I quit your ship," I said, with emphasis, "I will tell you how you yourself will quit it. You will do so between two policemen if you land in England, and between two marines if you think of keeping on the high seas. Before we started, I sent a detailed statement of this ship, the nature of this nefarious voyage, and the names of the passengers—or as many as I knew—to a friend who will put it in proper hands if anything befalls me. Go back without me and explain the loss of that French fishing fleet which was sunk the very night we sailed. It is an awkward coincidence to be explained by a man who returns from an unknown voyage having lost his entire list of passengers. You cannot be aware of what this man Brande intends, or you would at least stand by us as long as your own safety permitted. In any case you cannot safely return without us."