Once again it was night.
Johnny walked slowly back and forth along the narrow deck. There was about him on this night a sense of uneasiness, as if some unusual thing was about to happen, or possibly a whole succession of things, which might change the whole course of his life.... That very evening he had heard old Samatan making a speech to the native crew—a fiery sort of speech, with the men uttering grunts of approval every now and then.
“I’ll take him down in the steel ball tomorrow, if I get the chance,” Johnny assured himself. “That should cool him off!”
Samatan, however, was not the only cause of his uneasiness. There was the sign of the green arrow, those singers, and the boat mark on the beach—and Mr. Kennedy’s constant talk of spies. All these, he felt, were part of a strange pattern of events.
“The whole thing may blow up any time,” he told himself. “And then what—” His thoughts were interrupted suddenly. He sprang forward. He could swear he had seen something move near the steel ball.
“No one here now,” he murmured, circling the ball, slowly. “Imagined it, I guess. My nerves are jumpy tonight.”
A whole succession of small, dark clouds, high in the heavens, had been passing before the moon. One moment the deck was white with moonlight; the next, it was dark as the deep sea.
Johnny laughed softly, and found it helped steady him. Taking another turn ’round the steel ball, he walked past the open top of the tank in which the giant, sea-green octopus was kept. As he came alongside, there was a sudden splash—as if the creature had thrown out a long arm and allowed it to drop. It gave him a real start. Suppose the monster reached out for him and really made connections. Suppose—
There was that darting shadow again. Or was it? Just then a big cloud hid the moon.
“It’s nothing,” he assured himself. “Can’t be. Crew’s all asleep. No chance of anyone coming on board without being seen. Guess I’ll have to take a good, long, drink of cold water.”