Next Lamia walked aft, and in a restrained voice said:
“The vessel of Cæsar is before us. We dare not pass without leave asked and granted.”
“All right, sir,” said the second mate. “Any orders below?”
“Keep on at present speed. When I call Slack, then let them slacken. When I call Double, then at once with full force double.”
“Right, sir. I will carry down instructions.”
The mate went to the ladder and descended into the hold.
There were now left on deck only Lamia, Domitia, the steersman, Eboracus, one sailor and the physician, who was leaning over the bulwarks looking north at the glittering constellation of Cassiopea’s Chair.
He was near the quarter-deck, in the fore part of the vessel, and had been unobserved in the darkness by Lamia and Domitia, till they returned aft.
Then the young man started as he observed him.
Was it possible that the man had overheard the words spoken? There was nothing in the attitude or manner of the physician to show that he entertained alarm. Lamia resolved on keeping an eye upon him that he did not communicate with the crew.