“He is worse than that, or I am much mistaken,” remarked Zabra, earnestly. “I have not been able to collect sufficient proof, but I strongly suspect, from observation I have made, that he is connected with your captain, whom he praised so much, in some deep-laid scheme of treachery, of which you are to be the sufferer.”
“Impossible!” exclaimed Oriel. “That Boor would cheat his own father, I believe; but I don’t think he would act the villain, except in the general routine of business:—as for Compass, there’s no harm in him—the freedom of his language and the unprepossessing character of his manners are likely to create an unfavourable impression in any observer. Besides, he is alone in the ship, or nearly so. He is not at all popular with the crew, and were he to attempt any thing, the majority would rise in my favour. No, no, Zabra, your suspicions must be groundless.”
“Who are those strange men that have come on board?” asked his companion, in a whisper.
“Those in long frocks and straw hats? They are some poor agricultural labourers that have begged a free passage from the captain, which, at his desire, I have granted.”
“I have received information, through the boy Loop, from old Hearty, whose fidelity I can depend on, that these men are not what they appear to be; that they are evidently sailors, and, from their countenances alone, I should imagine that they are here for no good purpose,” said Zabra.
“Ha!” exclaimed Oriel Porphyry, for the first time entertaining a suspicion of the captain’s intentions.
“Hush!” whispered Zabra, clutching his companion firmly at the arm, while the expression of his features became intensely anxious.
“Heard you that?”
It was a stifled scream. While both listened in great excitement, it was followed by a discharge of fire-arms, a clashing of weapons, shouts, imprecations, and yells of agony; and immediately afterwards Hearty, Boggle, Ardent, Climberkin, and about half a dozen others, rushed upon deck, followed by Captain Compass, Scrumpydike, and the gang of ruffians described in the last chapter, fighting furiously; and, though streaming blood from many wounds, obstinately disputing every inch of ground.
“I have no weapon, but I must find one!” cried the young merchant, attempting to break from his companion.