He fumbled in his pockets and drew forth a box of matches. Then quickly striking one he held it above his head. He was in a small cabin containing a table and a few leathered bunks. A door opened to his right. Advancing he held the match before him. He saw the small room was a stateroom, but it was empty. Captain Scott was not on board the ship. Disappointedly he mounted the ladder and turned his steps forward.
Sydney and O’Neil had aroused the crew, six men in all, and had employed them hauling on ropes. Stump was talking with a tall native as Phil approached.
“Captain Scott isn’t in the cabin,” he informed his companions; “but we have his vessel, anyway.”
“Did you go down there alone?” Stump exclaimed incredulously.
“I certainly did,” Phil replied, laughing half nervously at the evident surprise in Stump’s voice, “and my heart’s still racing like that steam launch engine.”
“Mine would have stopped,” Stump declared. “I’m glad he ain’t on board. I never want to see the old pirate again until I see him hanged.”
“What does his crew say?” Phil asked.
“This is Maka,” Stump said indicating the tall native. “Captain Scott, he says, went ashore to meet Klinger somewhere, he doesn’t know where, and left word he’d sail in the morning.”
“Well, he won’t.” Phil chuckled. “Gee! I’d like to see his face when he arrives and sees no schooner.”
The little steam launch toiled away, dragging its huge burden toward the sea.