At that moment he heard the sound of heavy feet upon the stairway. He knew that tread; he had heard it before. There was no hiding-place except under the hanging of the heavy tablecloth, and with a quiet celerity, Jim slid under its protection just as the woman stirred from the divan, and then the captain's heavy, growling voice made itself heard as he came down into the saloon.
"I'm going to pull anchor out of here to-morrow, Ann," said the skipper; "it's jest about time."
"What hour, Brother?" asked the woman.
This startled Jim, who had not guessed that this woman was any relation of the redoubtable Bill Broome, and that so human a word as "Brother" could be applied to the old pirate had never entered his head. This rawboned woman was quite the equal of her brother, and her life had brought out that hardness and cruelty that is latent only too often in the New England character.
To her question the captain replied, "Not later than four if we are to get clear. I'm going into Frisco on a little business first."
"Do we take the gal?" questioned the woman, following his thought in some obscure way.
"Then she is here," mused Jim.
"Part way, anyhow," he rumbled in his harsh voice. "Every day of bother getting rid of her brings up her price."
Jim felt the hot blood of rage warm the roots of his hair. The cold-blooded cruelty and calculation of it made him long to get hold of the old codger. Perhaps he would in a moment.
"Git me something to eat, Ann, old gal," he said. "I'd better begin to lay in ballast for to-morrow."