“What are you going to do with us?” The skipper’s voice was once more contained.
“We’s putting you off in a boat, and youse takes your chances with them critters that live on Iwi Po’o.” Whitey continued to flap his gums.
I stopped listening to him. One of the lifeboat davits was empty, and I knew that must be the one the mutineers intended the skipper, Mr. Chetwood, and Nick to use. I peered over the rail. The lifeboat was riding gently on the waves that slapped against the hull of the August Moon. I swung a leg over the side, caught a rope, and shimmied down.
I sat down hard when I saw Charley and Hildy huddled in the bow. He put his finger to his lips to forestall my questions and raised a tarpaulin. Beneath it were three rifles and six rucksacks and canteens; he’d never doubted I wou
