“Shure, sor, Misther Potter, O’im not countin’ av thim casks they took,” explained Mike as Pem ceased. “’T’was three boatloads they put aboard the brig, but b’gorra Oim thinkin’ ’tis not manny. The most av thim wuz yonder where we druv thim off. An’ faith, Oim afther thinkin’ the storrm bust more av the casks than the haythens sthole.”
But the loss of oil was far greater than Mike had imagined, for when they reached the pile of casks which had served as a barricade, they discovered that nearly every one in the outer tiers was riddled with bullets and that the precious oil had leaked out. Of the hundreds of filled casks which the men had toiled so hard to secure, barely two hundred were left—not enough to grease their boots with, as Cap’n Pem put it.
It was all very discouraging and disheartening, and while Cap’n Pem knew that, had he not gone to rescue Sam, the loss would not have occurred, or at least would have been far less, still he refrained from mentioning it, for to the whalemen the saving of a human life, even if a crippled negro, meant far more than several thousand dollars worth of oil. Mike too, was far more disturbed and disgruntled over the injury to his wooden leg than over the loss of oil or the other misfortunes that had befallen the whalemen, and every man agreed that it was all due to the bo’sun bird having rested upon the Hector’s mast.
In fact, the men, as a whole, were very morose and sullen and not a few, including Cap’n Pem himself, expressed doubts of the Hector coming back and declared that if she were wrecked it would be no more than might be expected. It was useless for the boys to try to laugh at their forebodings, or to ridicule them out of their superstitions, for their belief was firmly fixed and the very fact that so many misfortunes had befallen them was proof, to their minds, that they were right.
Indeed, as the boys constantly heard the men discussing the matter and listened to stories of death and disaster following the visits of bo’sun birds to other ships, they found themselves getting nervous. And when, after the Hector was a week overdue no signs of her had been seen, the boys began to fear that something had happened to the bark and that they would be marooned upon the island for an indefinite time. But despite their troubles and superstitious fears, the men went back to their labors and as the sea elephants again began to return to the island they resumed the killing and boiling.
In the meantime, the two wounded raiders were on the road to recovery, although unable to work, but they steadfastly refused to divulge any information in regard to the brig or the raid.
“Wall, I reckon ye’ll tell when we git ye back to New Bedford an’ shet up in jail,” remarked Cap’n Pem. And deciding it was useless to question them further, he dropped the matter.
Then, one day, as the boys clambered over the hillside above the camp, Jim glanced seawards and gave a glad shout. Faint upon the horizon gleamed the upper sails of a ship.
“Hurrah!” he cried. “There’s a ship. I’ll bet it’s the Hector!”
“Maybe it’s some other ship,” said Tom. “And perhaps it’s not coming here at all. Let’s wait and be sure before we tell the others.”