“What do you mean?” repeated the captain from his seat. “Speak plain.”
“I mean that you had better bolt,” said Tillotson in a hurried whisper. “There’s a heavy reward out for you, which Captain Wilson wants. You can’t do what you did for nothing, you know.”
Captain Gething sat down in his seat again and shaded his face with his hand.
“I’ll go back,” he said brokenly. “Wilson told me he was alive, and that it was all a mistake. If he’s lying to me for the price of my old neck, let him have it.”
“What about your wife and daughter?” said Tillotson, who was beginning to have a strong disrelish for his task. “I saw in the paper last night that Wilson had got you. He’s gone ashore now to make arrangements at the station.”
“He had a letter from my daughter this morning, said the old man brokenly.
“He told you it was from her,” said Tillotson. “Get your things and come quick.”
Excited by the part he was playing, he bent forward and clutched at the old man’s arm. Captain Gething, obedient to the touch, rose, and taking his battered cap from a nail, followed him in silence above.
“We’re going for a drink,” said Tillotson to the boy. “We’ll be back in ten minutes.”
“All right,” said Henry cheerfully; “wish I was going with you.”