“Ginger! does that mean you suspect him of being what might be called a blockade runner?” he asked in a hushed tone.
“Something along those lines,” asserted Jack. “Look him over again and tell me if you could ever imagine a better specimen of a daring adventurer. Doesn’t his every movement and expression say that Captain Zenos has spent the better part of his life dodging customs officers as a smuggler, or something like that?”
“Honest, Jack, I do believe you are right. Now that you’ve mentioned it, I think of several things I’ve noticed, and I agree with you. The old Greek skipper has all the ear-marks of a bold adventurer. The chances are he’s as unscrupulous as he is daring.”
“Then it strikes me we ought to be doing something before it’s too late, so as to find out what sort of a boat we’ve taken passage on,” Jack suggested, quietly.
“By demanding that he tell us, do you mean?” asked Amos.
“Well, hardly,” came the reply. “That would only hurry him along, I’m afraid. But there’s another way to find out. I might watch my chance and make an effort to see what lies under those snug tarpaulins down below!”
Amos gave a slight whistle, which was one of his customary ways of indicating surprise.
“Not a bad scheme, Jack, sure it isn’t, only I don’t see why you wouldn’t let me do the prowling around.”
“It was my idea, and you must expect me to be the one to do the job,” he was told, although at the same time Jack favored him with a smile of appreciation, for he knew just how willing Amos always was to undertake any manner of task, regardless of the labor involved or the peril that threatened.
“If, as you suspect, they turn out to be blockade runners, Jack, perhaps they mean to hide behind that island yonder until dark comes on, when they can slip past the torpedo-boat lines, and land their stuff.”