As Jones explained the presence of the boys on board the freighter, the Captain looked from them to Jones and back again. When Jones told him how Bull and Turk had mistaken Sandy’s sloop for his own, the Captain shifted his gaze to the two sailors, who almost winced under his cutting stare of scorn. Then, when the tale was done, he devoted his attention exclusively to Jones once more.
“What do you want to do about it?” he asked.
“I leave that entirely up to you,” Jones said. “I want no part of any violence—if it can be avoided. Besides, you will have them on your hands, and I’ll be ashore, so that it’s hardly my place to dictate the conditions of their—er—disposal.”
Jones rose, leaning casually on his rifle as if it were a walking stick. “Whatever you want to do is all right with me. Just get rid of them, that’s all. And do it in a way that won’t attract any suspicions ashore. I don’t want anyone poking around the island asking questions about them.”
The Captain thought for a minute, then answered, “I don’t think we’ll have anyone poking around the island. Not if we handle this thing right. They must not, you see, simply disappear. If they just drop out of sight without a trace, it will surely bring on a search, and someone may have seen them near your place. No, that won’t do. On the contrary, they must be found. But they must be found in such a condition that they can answer no questions—ever. And it must look natural.”
“Perfect logic,” Jones said. “I agree completely. But how are you going to manage it?”
“We will keep them aboard,” the Captain answered, “locked up below. I will tow their sloop after us. When we are a satisfactory distance from shore—say a thousand miles—we will put them into their boat and cut them loose.”
“But,” Jones protested, “isn’t there a chance that they could make it in to shore somewhere? Men have managed rougher trips than that in the past.”
“Don’t worry about details,” the Captain said in his quiet, scholarly voice. “I’ll take care of everything. First, we will drop them far out of any regular shipping lanes. In addition, we will first wreck their sails, their mast and their rigging as if it had been done by a storm. When they are finally found, it will be too late to do anything about them. It will just look as if a storm had wrecked them and blown them out to sea. It’s a tidy way to operate—no messy violence—and there will be no clues to lead to your precious island.”
Jones considered for a minute before answering. “It sounds all right to me, if you say so. After all, you know your end of the business better than I do.”