“But if you shouldn’t be there, Dickory?  Couldn’t you whistle, couldn’t you call gently?”

“No,” said Dickory; “if I did that, their sharp ears would hear and lanterns would be flashed on us, and perhaps things would be cast down upon us.  That would be the quickest way of getting rid of you.”

“But, Dickory,” she said, after a moment’s silence, “it is terrible about my father and Ben Greenway.  Why don’t they come back?  What’s the matter with them?”

He hesitated a little before answering.

“From what I heard, I think there is some trouble on shore, and that’s the reason why your father has not come for you as soon as he expected.  But he thinks you safe with Ben Greenway.  Now what we have to do is to get away from this vessel; and then if she sails and leaves your father and Ben Greenway, it will be a good thing.  These fellows are rascals, and no honest person should have to do with them.  But now I must get out of sight, or somebody will come and spoil everything.”

Big Sam did come aft and told Kate he thought she would come to injury sitting out in the night air.  But she would not listen to him, and only asked him what time of night it was.  He told her that it was not far from nine, and that she would see her father very soon, and then he left her.

“It would have been a terrible thing if he had come at nine,” she said to herself.  Then she sat very still waiting for the sound of the old clock.

Dickory Charter had not told Miss Kate Bonnet all that he had heard when he was stealthily wandering about the ship.  He had slipped down into the chains near a port-hole, on the other side of which Big Sam and the black-haired man were taking supper, and he heard a great deal of talk.  Among other things he heard a bit of conversation which, when expurgated of its oaths and unpleasant expressions, was like this: 

“You are sure you can trust the men?” said Black-hair.

“Oh, yes!” replied the other, “they’re all right.”

“Then why don’t you go now?  At any time officers may be rowing out here to search the vessel.”

“And well they might.  For what needs an old farmer with an empty vessel, a crew of seventy men, and ten guns?  He is in trouble, you may wager your life on that, or he would be coming to see about his girl.”

“And what will you do about her?”

“Oh, she’ll not be in the way,” answered Big Sam with a laugh.  “If he doesn’t take her off before I sail, that’s his business.  If I am obliged to leave port without his cash-box, I will marry his daughter and become his son-in-law—­I don’t doubt we can find a parson among all the rascals on board—­then, perhaps, he will think it his duty to send me drafts to the different ports I touch at.”

At this good joke, both of them laughed.

“But I don’t want to go without his cash-box,” continued Big Sam, “and I will wait until high-tide, which will be about ten o’clock.  It would be unsafe to miss that, for I must not be here to-morrow morning.  But the long-boat will be here soon.  I told Roger to wait until half-past nine, and then to come aboard with old Bonnet or without him, if he didn’t show himself by that time.”