the creaking of blocks, told me that the Viscount was getting under way. The noise awoke Oliver, who roused up to clutch me by the arm.
"Mark, what does this mean" he began, and then checked himself. "Is this ship about to sail?"
"I think so."
"Whereto?"
"That's the conundrum."
"Has anybody been down here yet?"
"I haven't seen anybody. I just woke up, too."
"We're off, that certain," went on my chum, as the ship began to roll. "We can't be bound for Spain, can we?"
"As I said before, that's a conundrum. We are bound for somewhere—and I don't believe it's any Hawaiian port, either."
I calculated that it was nearly noon when the hatch was thrown open again and, looking upward, we saw Captain Marcale peering down at us.
"American boys want to come on de deck?" he asked, in exceedingly bad English, so bad, in fact, that I could scarcely understand him.
"Do we want to come on deck?" I repeated. "Of course we do. Do you think it is nice being smothered down here."
"Will you be quiet if I let you come?"
