Tahiti seemed to have been left far behind, for the Vulture was well out to sea, and no smallest cloud on the horizon gave any hint of distant land. The sailors had set the sails and a good breeze filled the black canvas of the pirate ship. The pirates themselves, still surly from having eaten and drunk too well after the fight of the day before, were quarrelsome and tired and lay about in sprawling groups on the deck far below. Looking aft, Chris saw Simon Gosler hobbling from the Captain's cabin, and Osterbridge Hawsey's graceful, overdressed figure outlined in the doorway. On an impulse, Chris flew down to hear what they were saving.
"I thank you, Gosler, for your message," Osterbridge was saying, "for Captain Chew seems much relieved to have heard it, and I think will now rest quietly and sleep. Who is it, you say, who has some knowledge of medicine—the ship's carpenter?"
Here Osterbridge Hawsey rolled his eyes upward and shrugged his expressive shoulders.
"Dear me! At least to be a sawbones, he has the saw!" he said disdainfully.
"And knows how to drive a nail into a coffin too, master," whined the beggar.
"Enough!" cried Osterbridge in sudden anger. "Fetch him at once, and tell the cook, as you pass the galley, to bring the Captain some plain hot broth! He is much fevered."
The atmosphere seemed right to Chris for all he had to do. Without Claggett Chew's commanding and forbidding presence, the pirates would be in a turmoil. Chris returned to the higher rigging to wait until darkness should be more profound.
It was not long before the tropic night fell, deeply blue in the first hours until the stars should give off their high clear light. As the Vulture rolled and pitched over the sea far down beneath him, Chris clung to the rigging and took the chance of changing himself into his own shape. Then, with all the haste he could, he moved a hundred feet above the hard decks, up the masts and along the sails, setting the new knife gently here and there to part the fibers of the cloth. As he went the lines were touched occasionally in vital spots.
It took long, for it had to be done with care. Chris scarcely made a move without looking down to see whether the sailors might not have glanced up at the dusky full-bellied sails, but they were weary after two such hard-filled days and soon fell asleep on the planks of the open deck. Only Simon Gosler hobbled in and out, watching a sailor here, stealing from another there, lifting his head slowly above the window of the Captain's cabin to spy on what went on inside. Like a dark malevolent spirit, Simon Gosler, crippled in thought and body, moved restlessly about the pirate ship.
Chris completed his task on the sails and rigging and slipped down to hide behind the third mast as he looked out to see where Simon Gosler might be. He could see him nowhere, and holding his breath, stepped over two sleeping pirates sprawled on their backs on the deck to reach the hatch of the hold. He had one last task to perform before leaving the Vulture.