"Yes, we'll be quiet," said Oliver. "And I'll make you quiet, too, if I get the chance to knock you on the head," he added to himself.
"Then come up," went on the Spaniard, and set one of his men to lowering a "chicken-board," a plank with strips nailed across it, and we ascended to the deck without delay.
One glance around and my heart sank within me. Hilo Bay had been left behind and the towering mountains of Hawaii were but mere specks in the distance. The Viscount was headed southeast, down the lower eastern shore.
"You see how it is," grinned Captain Marcale. "You cannot escape from me."
"Where is Ramon Delverez?" I asked.
"We left him at Hilo."
"And where are you going to take us?" questioned Oliver.
"The Viscount is bound for Australia," was the answer, which nearly dumfounded us.
