I could not remind him that he had let the ship's name drop from his lips four years ago. It would be as much as to say that Helen had told me. It would confess that I had spoken with her of the _Royal Fortune_. Yet I must answer, and without the least show of hesitation. I caught at the first plausible reason which occurred to me. I said: "Cullen Mayle told me," and that answer saved my life. For Glen remarked, "Yes, he knew," and nodded to Tortue: Tortue lifted the knife in his hand, and again I closed my eyes. But the next thing I heard was a snap as the blade shut into the handle, and the next thing after that Tortue's voice deliberately speaking: "George Glen, you never had the brains of a louse. You can smirk and wriggle, and you're handy with a weapon, but, you never had no brains." I opened my eyes pretty wide at that, and I saw that the three younger faces were now kindled out of their sluggishness. It was that mention of Cullen Mayle which had wrought the change. These three took no particular interest in the _Royal Fortune_, but they had every interest in the doings of Cullen Mayle, and they now alertly followed all that Tortue said. George Glen leaned forward. "Who's cap'en here, Peter Tortue?" said he. "Was you with us on the Sierra Leone River? Nat Roper there, Blads, you James Skyrm, speak up, lads, was he with us?" "My son was," said Tortue calmly. "And what sort of answer is that? 'Tis lucky for you Cap'en Roberts isn't aboard this shed. He wouldn't have understood that language, not he--and he wouldn't have troubled you for an explanation neither. Here's a fine thing, lads! If a man dies, his father, what's been lying in the lap of luxury at home, is to have his share. That's a nice new rule for gentlemen adventurers, and not content with his share, wants to set up for cap'en. I have a good mind to learn you modesty, Peter, just as Roberts would have learnt you." He was talking quite smoothly, with a grin all over his face, but I never saw a man that looked so dangerous. Peter Tortue, however, was in no way discomposed. "Why, you blundering fool," he answered, "where would you ha' been but for me? No, I wasn't on the Sierra Leone River with you, or you wouldn't be eating your hearts and your pockets empty upon Tresco. No, I am not your captain, or you wouldn't never have lost track of Cullen Mayle at Wapping." There were four faces now alertly watching Peter Tortue, and the fourth was mine. It was not merely that my life hung upon his predominance, but there was the best of chances now that I might get to the bottom of the mystery of their watching.