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Updated: May 31, 2025
The squall which had passed left the air fresh and cool, and the sky was not so black, although the schooner was still in gloom. But her bulwarks were more clearly defined against the water, and Trask could see a figure on the starboard bow which looked like a man standing and peering in the direction of the island. "Who's that?" came Jarrow's voice as Trask drew near.
It was natural enough for a sailing master to resent the slightest implication that he was not efficient, and Trask was not so much concerned with Jarrow's hidden meaning on that score as with his covert acknowledgment that he had been watchful of Trask's attitude. It was something to know that Jarrow was keen enough to divine the fact that Trask was secretly critical.
Trask looked to Dinshaw for a reply, a trifle surprised at Jarrow's question, for of course the schooner's crew could claim no share of anything, as Jarrow was being paid for his part in the expedition and was taking no chances of being out of pocket if the island proved to be a fiasco. "No, sir," said Dinshaw, a little ruffled.
Jarrow's room having been cleared early in the night, and the captain wrapped in old canvas, the body was dropped overboard as they passed clear of the reefs, Trask saying from memory as much as he could remember of the service for burials at sea.
"He'll want to see me, an' don't forget," said Dinshaw, wagging his head. "Jarrow's the man for me and " The tapa curtains were thrust aside violently, and the short, squat man with clipped hair stood between them, glowering, one hand gripped into a fist, and the other holding the swaying fabric. "What's this of me and the Nuestra?" he roared.
As they got out of the carriage a black man hopped ashore from the tug and made for their baggage. "I'm Doc Bird, the steward," he said. "I reckon yo' all is fo' Cap'n Jarrow's packet?" "We are," said Locke. "Is everything ready?" "Never gon' be no readier, sir," said the steward, who looked smart in a suit of white and a jaunty cap.
He saw a young woman seated before a small table covered with tea things, and a tall young man standing near by. Mr. Locke stood just inside the door, but what warmed Jarrow's heart and bolstered his courage was a picture of Dinshaw's island which lay on a divan. There was the proof that the old captain had talked with these people.
"I guess they got a belly full o' this business," was Jarrow's comment as he brought the boat alongside. "You make a mistake not to take 'em up. We'd be in a bad hole here if it come on to blow hard. Ye better let me signal 'em back." Trask said nothing to this, but helped Dinshaw over the side. The old man seemed utterly spent, and appeared to be in a daze from the sun.
"But I'll give Jarrow to understand that we don't want to hear any more quarrels." Trask and Marjorie left their chairs on the lee side of the poop, and leaned against the rail, the better to see what was taking place forward, where they could hear Jarrow and Peth in quiet argument. From their gestures it was plain that in spite of Jarrow's pleas Peth was still obdurate.
"What's this Doc said about you cookin' gold out of sand?" asked Jarrow. "Brass filings," said Trask, promptly, and took some of the particles from his trousers pocket and dumped them into Jarrow's palm. "Had my suspicions of him, and wanted to see if he'd give me a double cross. And he has the nerve to want to come back!"
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