"So I presume. What's more, I don't think you're likely ever to be aboard another."
Again the ex-boatswain glanced nervously at the skipper. The last remark struck him as being unpleasantly ominous. The question which followed confirmed his worst fears.
"Did the men know why you came aft to-night?"
"I—I can't say, sir," faltered Skelt.
"You mean to say that you told none of them what you intended to do?"
The man's knees were trembling. He made an attempt to speak, but seemed to choke before he could get the words out.
"Answer me!" rapped out the Captain, and Skelt started as if at the sound of a pistol-shot.
"N—no, sir," he faltered, hardly realising what he said.
"Then I am to understand that they didn't know you intended to murder me?"
Skelt's last hope deserted him. His face turned an ashen grey. He tried to speak, but only a dry sob of abject terror escaped him.