“He’s bloody well right, mates,” said a loud voice heartily.  “There’s plenty o’ swag aboard ter give us all a fist full.  I’m fer a division, an gettin’ out with our lives—­what say yer?”

There was a chorus of approval sufficient in volume to satisfy me, and I accepted this as a decision.

“All right, lads,” I said briefly.  “In my judgment your choice is a wise one.  I’ll have an observation as soon as the fog clears and we’ll head in for the Cape.”

“When do we divide the swag?”

“Fifty miles off the coast.  That’s fair enough, isn’t it?  And my share goes to you.”

There was a straggling cheer, but I broke it up with a sharp order.

“Now stand by for work, all of you.  Watkins and Carter I want you aft.”

CHAPTER XXIII

THE PRISONERS ESCAPE

The two men followed me silently as far as the companion, where we paused a moment staring blindly about us into the fog.  Even the guard at the main hatch was invisible.

“This can scarcely last long,” I remarked, “but there may be a storm brewing.”

“I don’t think so, sir,” one of the men answered civilly.  “I’ve run in to these yere mists afore ’long this coast; it’s liable ter be all clear ’fore the sun goes down.”

“Well we’ll make the ship safe first Carter, you are an able seaman?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Guard this after deck until Watkins and I come back.  Under no circumstances permit LeVere to enter the cabin.  You understand?”

He grinned appreciatively.

“That nigger ain’t likely ter get by me, sir; I’d just like for ter take one whack at him.”

“Don’t be rough, if you can help it.  As far as I know now he is with us, and ranks second officer.  My only orders are—­see that he remains on deck while we are below.”

“Ay, ay, sir; he’ll stay thar.”  With the door closed, we were plunged into a darkness which rendered the interior invisible.  I wondered dimly why the man on guard had not lighted the swinging lantern but before I could call out to the fellow, Watkins whispered.

“What’s up?  Anything wrong in here?”

“Not that I know of, but the young lady reported Sanchez moving about in his stateroom and I think it safer to see to him at once.”

“It’s blacker than hell down thar.”

“Yes; I don’t understand it—­wait here a minute until I strike a light.”

I stumbled over something on the deck, as I groped forward, but with mind centered on the one object, did not pause until I had located the lantern.  It blazed up brightly enough, its yellow flame illuminating the cabin, and the first thing I saw was the outstretched figure of the sailor almost between my feet.  I sprang back, giving utterance to a cry, which brought Watkins to me, and the two of us stared at the grewsome object and then about into the wavering shadows.