“When he comes out,” he went on as if he had been talking all the time, “when this exclusive sort of millionaire President of the Fruit Company talks, I’m not going to tell him I’m part owner of this cargo. And you needn’t either. That way he’ll think me a harmless old man with a fair young granddaughter, and he may tell me things we need to know.
“Johnny!” he exclaimed, springing suddenly to his feet. “I think we better run for it.”
“Ru—run for it,” Johnny stammered in astonishment. “Run from what?”
“The storm.”
“What storm? The sea’s calm, smooth as a floor.”
“Can’t you see? Can’t you smell it?” The old man sniffed the air. “But then, of course, you wouldn’t. Me, I’ve lived here on this sea always. I know things in advance. We’re going to have a storm, a regular humdinger, a mahogany splitter, and if we don’t run, if we can’t convince the captain we ought to run, I don’t know what’s to come of us.”
“Look!” said Madge, springing up. “There’s a steamer. See the smoke. You can make her out too.”
Kennedy unslung his binoculars.
“That,” he said after a moment of close scrutiny, “is the Arion. She’s the Company’s steamer that our Unwilling Guest was to sail on.”
“He’ll be all excited if he sees her,” said Johnny.