Captain Whidden held the speaking trumpet. "Hullo!"
"What ship is that, pray?"
"The ship Island Princess, from Salem, bound to Canton. Where are you from?"
"The brig Adventure, bound from the Straits to Boston. Our foretopmast was carried away four hours ago. Beware of—"
Losing the next words, the Captain called, "I didn't hear that last."
"Beware,"—came again the warning cry, booming deeply over the sea while one and all we strained to hear it—"beware of any Arab ship. Arabs have captured the English ship Alert and have murdered her captain and fifteen men."
Squaring her head-yards, the brig dropped her mainsail, braced her cross jack-yard sharp aback, put her helm a-weather and got sternway, while her after sails and helm kept her to the wind. So she fell off from us and the two vessels passed, perhaps never to meet again.
Both forward and aft, we aboard the Island Princess were sober men. Kipping and the second mate were talking quietly together, I saw (I saw, too, that Captain Whidden and some of the others were watching them sharply) Mr. Thomas and Roger Hamlin were leaning side by side upon the rail, and forward the men were gathering in groups. It was indeed an ominous message that the brig had given us. But supper broke the tension, and afterwards a more cheerful atmosphere prevailed.
As I was sweeping down the deck next day, Roger, to my great surprise,—for by now I was accustomed to his amused silence,—came and spoke to me with something of the old, humorous freedom that was so characteristic of him.
"Well, Bennie," said he, "we're quite a man now, are we not?"