Half an hour later, as I sat on the edge of my bunk smoking a cigarette, there came a tap at the door. Garth, looking strangely big and unwieldy in his pyjamas, stood outside.
"Come up at once!" he whispered. "Don't trouble to dress. There's no one about!"
He glided away. When I emerged on deck the eastern sky was streaked with light. Lawless was on the bridge, Garth at his side.
Silently the captain pointed to the horizon. Away on the port bow a faint grey blur rested lightly on the straight edge of the ocean like a wisp of mist on a lake at dawn.
"Cock Island!" said the skipper.
CHAPTER X
THE GRAVE IN THE CLEARING
"Till Monday then!" said Garth as Lawless stepped into the launch.
"To-day week it is, sir!" returned the captain as Carstairs cast him the painter.