“And if not there, then nowhere else,” said I. “Perhaps he’s got the fore-peak in his head.”
“I’ll not have a hatch lifted!” he exclaimed warmly; “nor will I allow the crew to be troubled. There’s been no theft. Put it that the stone is stolen. Who’s going to find it in a forecastle full of men—a thing as big as half a bean, perhaps? If it’s gone, it’s gone, indeed, whoever may have it. But there’s no go in this matter at all,” he added, with a short, nervous laugh.
We were talking in this fashion when the Major joined us; his features were now composed. He gazed sternly at the captain and said loftily—
“What steps are you prepared to take in this matter?”
“None, sir.”
His face darkened. He looked with a bright gleam in his eyes at the captain, then at me: his gaze was piercing with the light in it. Without a word he stepped to the side and, folding his arms, stood motionless.
I glanced at the captain; there was something in the bearing of the Major that gave shape, vague indeed, to a suspicion that had cloudily hovered about my thoughts of the man for some time past. The captain met my glance, but he did not interpret it.
When I was relieved at four o’clock by the second mate, I entered my berth, and presently, hearing the captain go to his cabin, went to him and made a proposal. He reflected, and then answered—
“Yes; get it done.”