"Ben," Roger said, coming to me where I sat on the forecastle, "I want to
talk to you. Step over by the mast."
I followed him, though surprised.
"Here we can see on all sides," he said. "There are no hiding-places within
earshot. Ben"--He hesitated as if to find the right words.
All were watching us now, the captain and the mate from the quarter-deck,
the others from wherever they happened to be.
"I am loath to draw your sister's younger brother into danger," Roger
began. His adjective was tactfully chosen. "I am almost equally reluctant
to implicate you in what seems likely to confront us, because you are an
old friend of mine and a good deal younger than I am. But when the time
comes to go home, Ben, I'm sure we want to be able to look your sister and
all the others squarely in the eyes, with our hands clean and our
consciences clear--if we go home. How about it, Ben?"
I was too bewildered to answer, and in Roger's eyes something of his old
twinkle appeared.
"Ultimately," he continued, grave once more and speaking still in enigmas,
"we shall be vindicated in any case. But I fear that, before then, I, for
one, shall have to clasp hands with mutiny, perhaps with piracy.
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