Part 56 (1/2)
”Well, I don't mind the last,” replied the captain, ”but a dead calm would be dangerous, and sets me thinking whether it wouldn't be better to be off at once.”
”Well, that depends on you,” said the mate. ”If it was me I should stop till night and chance it. But where do you mean to go? Right away home?”
”I don't know yet,” was the reply. ”For some reasons I should like to stop and see Don Ramon right out of his difficulties. Besides, I have a little business to transact with him that may take days. No, I shan't go off yet. I may stay here for months, working for Don Ramon. It all depends.”
”Very well,” said the mate coolly, as if it did not matter in the slightest degree to him so long as he was at sea.
From time to time the skipper in his walk up and down the deck paused to look up inquiringly, but always to be met with a quiet shake of the head, and go on again.
But about half-an-hour before sundown, just when festivities were at their height on sh.o.r.e, and the men were for the most part idling about, leaning over the bulwarks and watching as much of the proceedings as they could see, the two lads, after an hour's rest below, having returned to their look-out, Fitz suddenly exclaimed--
”There she is! But she doesn't look grey.”
”No,” replied Poole eagerly. ”What there is of her looks as if turned to gold.” Then loudly, ”Sail ho!” though there was not a sail in sight, only the steamer's funnel slowly coming into sight from behind one headland and beginning to show her smoke.
All was activity now, the men starting to their different places at the bulwarks, and eagerly listening to the skipper's ”Where away?”
”Coming round the south headland,” replied Poole.
”That's right,” said the skipper. ”I can see her now.”
”Well?” said Burgess.
”I shan't move yet. It will be pitch-dark in less than an hour. We can see her plainly enough with the open sea beyond her, but like as not they can't see us, lying close up here under the land. The chances are that they won't see us at all, and then we can run out in the darkness; and I suppose you will have no difficulty in avoiding the rocks?”
”Oh, I don't know,” said the mate coolly. ”Like as not I may run spang on to them in the dark. I shan't, of course, if I can help it.”
”No,” said the skipper dryly; ”I suppose not.”
Their task ended, the boys slid down to the deck once more, and somehow the thought of his anomalous position on board the schooner did not trouble the middy for the time being, for he was seaman enough to be intensely interested in their position, and as eager as Poole for their escape.
”Do you think the sun's going down as quickly as usual?” he said suddenly; and his companion laughed.
”What's that for?” said Fitz. ”Did I say something comic?”
”Comic or stupid, whichever you like.”
”Bah!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Fitz angrily, feeling more annoyed with himself than with Poole.
”Why of course she is going down at her usual rate.”
”Sun's a he,” said Fitz. ”It isn't the moon.”
”Thankye. You have grown wise,” replied Poole sarcastically. ”Do you know, I should have almost known that myself. But bother all this! I want to see the canvas shaken out ready for making a start.”
”Very stupid too,” said Fitz.
”Why?”
”Because the people on board the gunboat mayn't see us now, with our bare poles; and even if they could make us out they wouldn't be able to distinguish us from the other craft lying close in sh.o.r.e.”