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Amos gave a slight whistle, which was one of his customary ways of indicating surprise.

“Not a bad scheme, Jack, sure it isn’t, only I don’t see why you wouldn’t let me do the prowling around.”

“It was my idea, and you must expect me to be the one to do the job,” he was told, although at the same time Jack favored him with a smile of appreciation, for he knew just how willing Amos always was to undertake any manner of task, regardless of the labor involved or the peril that threatened.

“If, as you suspect, they turn out to be blockade runners, Jack, perhaps they mean to hide behind that island yonder until dark comes on, when they can slip past the torpedo-boat lines, and land their stuff.”

“As like as not,” agreed Jack. “As there’s no time to be lost, I reckon I might slip my cable right now while they’re all so busy up forward, and see if it’s possible to get a line on that mysterious cargo.”

“Good luck to you then,” Amos told him. “But before you go, give me some idea of what you want me to do in case I learn the captain suspects you and acts.”