Commander Tazewell had come up from below and stood at the side of the officer of the deck.
“Let Mr. Perry board her,” he ordered quietly, and as the officer of the deck moved away to give the boatswain’s mate the order to call away the running boat, Commander Tazewell gave Phil some instructions as to his conduct to the captain of the merchant ship.
“Scott disclaims American nationality,” he said. “I hear he now flies the Herzovinian flag. You must go on board under the impression that he is an American and therefore under the control of our consul while in the harbor. Ask him of what his cargo consists. I must leave the rest to your good judgment.”
Commander Tazewell waited until he heard the rattle of anchor chain as the schooner anchored, then returned to his cabin, while Phil took command of the boat.
“To the schooner,” he said, turning to the sailor in the coxswain’s box. “Is that you, O’Neil?” he exclaimed in some surprise.
“Yes, sir. I happened to be handy, so Mr. Morrison told me to get in. The regular coxswain wasn’t on deck,” O’Neil replied. “I’ve been hearing of this fellow ‘Bully’ Scott ashore. All the natives say he’s bringing arms for the Kapuan firm, to be sold to Kataafa. These natives are like women; they can’t keep secrets; it ain’t in them.”
“Why does he come into Ukula, then?” Phil asked.
“Oh, that’s like ‘Bully’ Scott. He could have taken them anywhere else, but he enjoys doing something unexpected,” O’Neil answered admiringly.
“He has probably then already landed his guns,” Phil said, disappointedly. “Of course, that’s the explanation. His guilty cargo is no longer on board to convict him.”
O’Neil steered the boat alongside the schooner’s sea ladder, and Phil swung himself over the low rail. Everything was in darkness around him.