The soft voice of Ali Baba interrupted, and his shallow, lightish eyes peered around at them: 242
“Eet ees veree excellent plan, Johann. We do not require these papers; eet ees to destroy them we are mooch anxious”—he bent a deathly stare on Neeland—“and this yoong gentleman who may again annoy us.” He nodded confidently to himself and continued to connect the wires. “Yes, yes,” he murmured absently, “eet ees veree good plan—veree good plan to blow him into leetle pieces so beeg as a pin.”
“It is a clumsy plan!” said the girl, desperately. “There is no need for wanton killing like this, when we can––”
“Killing?” repeated Golden Beard. “That makes nothing. This English captain he iss of the naval reserve. Und this young man”—nodding coolly toward Neeland—“knows too much already. That iss not wanton killing. Also! You talk too much. Do you hear? We are due to drop anchor about 2:30. God knows there will be enough rushing to and fro at 2:13.
“Go on deck, I say, and fasten that rope ladder! Weishelm’s fishing smack will be watching; und if we do not swim for it we are caught on board! Und that iss the end of it all for us!”
“Johann,” she began tremulously, “listen to me––”
“Nein! Nein! What for a Frauenzimmer haff we here!” retorted Golden Beard, losing his patience and catching her by the arm. “Go out und fix for us our ladder und keep it coiled on the rail und lean ofer it like you was looking at those stars once!”
He forced her toward the door; she turned, struggling, to confront him:
“Then for God’s sake, give this man a chance! Don’t leave him tied here to be blown to atoms! Give him a chance—anything except this! Throw him out of the port, there!” She pointed at the closed port, evaded 243 Golden Beard, sprang upon the sofa, unscrewed the glass cover, and swung it open.
The port was too small even to admit the passage of her own body; she realised it; Golden Beard laughed and turned to examine the result of Ali Baba’s wiring.