Dick shrugged his shoulders in nervous irritation. He was angry with Alibaba, angry with himself.
Soon, however, the sight of black figures climbing over the stern dispelled his apprehension. 'That's better,' he sighed, 'but why five of them? We don't want more than four oars.'
As the boat approached, Norah noticed that for the long row its crew had discarded the unfamiliar European oar, reverting to the pointed paddle of their fathers. This looked like business. She took a last glance at the shore, where she had sensed such sinister influence, and smiled at her unfulfilled forebodings.
What the devil's that blasted Hindoo doing in the boat?' cried Dick suddenly.
Norah looked and saw the Indian's sardonic features momentarily revealed over the rising and falling shoulder of the bow-paddler, an ape-like negro, whose hunting knife, stuck in his belt, lent a piratical air to a personality no doubt genial enough.
'I'll jolly soon have him out of that,' muttered Dick.
As if his intentions had been divined, the uplifted paddles were checked and the silver water dripped from their narrow blades. The boat swung broadside on, a stone's-throw from land, rocking gently. Norah was near enough to see the perturbed, uneasy features of the crew that contrasted with the ironic composure of the Indian. He rose slowly to his feet from his seat in the stern. His thin lips twisted into a smile. His beaklike nose and the naked, withered skin of his neck reminded Norah of a vulture that had settled on a buck she had shot on the farm.
He stood for a moment in silence, smiling at the Europeans.
'Yesterday,' he began nasally, 'the Sahib struck this slave for remaining seated in the Sahib's presence. The slave now stands.'
'Cut that out,' shouted Dick, 'and paddle the boat inland at once.'