“Thees man, he think maybe he and these other mens can maybe get lots of little things like chronometers and glasses and such what left behind; so after lost Captain Morris boat in fog, they row back see if she still afloat, and come aboard. He swear he not know anything about how she sink on purpose. Engineer what Morris frien’ run on deck, yell she sprung big leak, and Morris make fuss, and then say no hope and mus’ take to boats. When these man come aboard and find you, they thinks maybe ship not sink after all, and if they can get her back they make lot of money for save her. So, fight like hell. He swear that all he know. Maybe he spik truth, I think so.”
Drake stared at the man for a moment. Then, with apparent irrelevance, he asked Christophe:
“How do people go by land from Nauplia to Piræus, and how long does it take?”
“Road over the mountains, sir. Easy go. But take maybe two, three days.”
“Telephone, I suppose?”
“Sure, captain, sir. Nauplia fine city. One time capital of Greece and——”
“Good! You tell this man we’re going to keep ’em aboard the Malabart until we get ready to make it to Piræus, and that nothing will happen to them, unless they try to leave before we get ready for them to go.”
The mate of the Rhodialim understood, and broke into profuse promises; but to make certain that they could not escape, Drake had all the boats of the Malabart brought around to the salvaged ship, moored, and the oars taken away, before he liberated his battered prisoners and told the cook to feed them.
Catlin was still wondering what Drake had in mind when, a few days later, the Rhodialim was ready to put to sea under her own steam. Then Drake said to his mate:
“Mr. Catlin, you take Beltramo and whatever scratch crew you need for the engine room and ship, and go aboard the Rhodialim and follow us to Piræus; but first have the boat that scum came in brought around, chuck in grub and water enough to take them to Nauplia, then chuck them in after it and tell ’em to go and be damned to ’em.”