Carlos refused the ring. He asked that I keep it for him, till he should ask for it. It was when we were all at sea one day, he asked for the ring. I handed it toward him, and he held up a belaying pin, asking me to thrust it on the point. And then with much tapping with a hammer, he blotted out the serpent; and on the broad part, where the head had been, he contrived a cross, using hammer and chisel. This done, he was content to take the ring his father had worn.
"Now thee ring be good luck," he said. And he placed it on his finger.
There was apparently little activity on board the Orion, though once or twice we heard the laugh of a sailor wafted in on the light breeze.
The hot, tedious hours dragged along, one after the other, with tropic lassitude; till finally the shadows of the palms had spread over the waters of the cove. And at last, too, Grant Norris came to tell us that the Pearl had come to anchor, about three miles away.
It was then activity began on board Duran's schooner: The binoculars showed us sailors throwing off the gaskets. And then—and this to us was a surprise—up went her sails.
"Surely," said Ray, "they can't be going to make a start yet?"
"We'd better hump," began Norris, "or they'll be getting away before we get aboard the Pearl."
"Wait," I said, "I don't believe they'll sail before dark."
"Always," offered Carlos, "when they sail from the city it is dark."
"I'm thinking," said Ray, "that what that Duran finds to do in daylight wouldn't make a long sermon."