"I could have sworn it by the way in which he excused the murderer."
"Stevens," continued the boatswain, "is at the bottom of all this here business—him and the cook. I suppose he didn't want the cook for a chum, and so knocked him over when he was going to operate on Duckling's body. But Duckling was a bad 'un too, and so was the skipper. They've got to thank theirselves for what they got. The crew never would ha' turned had they been properly fed."
"I believe that," I said. "But I'll tell you what's troubling me, boatswain. The carpenter has some design behind all this, which he is concealing. Does he really mean that I should navigate the ship to within fifty miles of New Orleans?"
"Yes, sir, he do," answered the boatswain, regarding me stedfastly.
"And he means then to heave the ship to, lower away the boats, and make for one of the mouths of the Mississippi, or land upon some part of the coast, and represent himself and his companions as castaway sailors?"
"Quite right," said the boatswain, watching me fixedly.
"If that is really his intention," I proceeded, "I cannot believe that he will allow me to land with the others. He distrusts me. He is as suspicious as all murderers are."
The boatswain continued eyeing me intently, as a man might who strives to form a resolution from the expression in another's face.
"He means to scuttle the ship," he said, in a low voice.
"Ah!" I exclaimed, starting. "I should have foreseen this."