Jack was breathing hard as though he had rushed matters somewhat. Amos felt glad to have his chum once more at his right hand, for he had come to depend on the executive ability of Jack more than ever of late.
“Is the train laid, you black conspirator?” he asked eagerly.
“Yes, and given five minutes more you’ll see it come up with a rush,” he was told by Jack.
“All I can say is that you beat the Dutch when it comes to arranging things like this. And, Jack, whether the skipper comes back here or not doesn’t matter much any more, does it?”
“I think that’s just what is going to happen before many minutes,” announced the late hard worker, as he wiped his forehead, as the evening was warm. “Come, while we have half a chance, let’s move further away from the hatch. I’d like to be well off when the discovery is made that the boat’s afire!”
“Whew! I bet there’s going to be a whole lot of excitement around here to the square inch before long,” muttered Amos. “I’m going to whoop it up good and hearty too, when the row begins. The more noise we make the bigger will be the scare, it strikes me.”
They managed to edge along a little at a time, when no one was looking, so that presently they were able to come to a stand further away from the open hatch, from the edge of the coaming of which the cargo, covered with heavy tarpaulins, could be seen below.
“They’re making a move now, as if they meant to scatter,” reported Amos.
“Yes, and the captain together with the cook have started this way,” Jack ventured. “Look for something not down on the bills to happen at any second, for I reckon my smudge is about due to show itself all at once.”
Amos tried hard to suppress his feelings. He was afraid those keen orbs of the old Greek skipper might read the secret in his glowing eyes, so he once again clapped the glasses up to his face and appeared to be scanning the sea beyond the nearby island as though in search of something.