"It's got my goat," he admitted. "It smells like a tomb."
"Don't be an ass."
"Turn the light over the side, and see if we fastened that boat.
We don't want to be left here indefinitely."
"That's folly, Mac," I said, but I obeyed him. "The watchman's boat
is there, so we--"
But he caught me suddenly by the arm and shook me.
"My God!" he said. "What is that over there?"
It was a moment before my eyes, after the flashlight, could
discern anything in the darkness. Mac was pointing forward. When
I could see, Mac was ready to laugh at himself.
"I told you the place had my goat!" he said sheepishly. "I thought
I saw something duck around the corner of that building; but I think
it was a ray from a searchlight on one of those boats."
"The watchman, probably," I said quietly. But my heart beat a
little faster. "The watchman taking a look at us and gone for his
gun."
I thought rapidly. If Mac had seen anything, I did not believe it
was the watchman. But there should be a watchman on board--in the
forward house, probably. I gave Mac my revolver and put the light
in my pocket. I might want both hands that night. I saw better
without the flash, and, guided partly by the bow light, partly by
my knowledge of the yacht, I led the way across the deck.
Pages:
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206