CHAPTER XII.
DID I BEAR IT LIKE A MAN, WALTER?
IT was nearly one o’clock at night, when the brigantine hove to, off the rock, a boat put off, and the sharp voice of Ned, crying, “Are you there, Walter?” came over the waves. But it was now blowing fresh, the sky obscured by clouds, and no possibility of landing on the rock, which was white with foam, it being so small that the sea ran all round it. The boat, pulled by men who had been all their lives brought up among the surf, and accustomed to working around breakers, was backed in within two seas of the rock, and held there by the oars, while she stood almost on end.
“Now, shipmate,” said Danforth Eaton, standing up in the stern sheets, with a coil of rope in his hand, “look out for the line, and jump for it.”
Walter caught the line, and making it fast round his waist, flung himself into the surf, and was hauled aboard, where he was joyfully received by Ned, to whom one day and a portion of two nights had seemed a week.
When the young captain had received Walter’s information, he complimented him very much for the shrewdness he had manifested; and as all were equally interested (the profits of the voyage being divided in this manner, the vessel, that is, the owners, drew a certain proportion, the captain, mates, and crew another, according to their rank), he spread the whole matter before the ship’s company.
Said the young captain to his crew, “The wind is fair, and plenty of it; the tide also is with us, and sets up the harbor; we should go like a shot; the frigate and sixty-four are out of the way; there is no moon, and it is overcast; if they fire at us, they will have to fire by guess, for they can’t sight over the black cannon; probably we shall not have so many things in our favor again. I am in for trying it to-night; but I want your opinions, for we must run the risk of their broadsides.”
“I reckon,” said Danforth Eaton, “that when we shipped aboard this craft, we knew what we had to kalkerlate on; we expect to get our profit out of our risk; I’m for trying it now.”
His opinion being assented to by the crew, the brigantine, with a spanking breeze and every sail set, was steered directly for the roadstead, a little over two miles distant. It seemed but a moment, so rapid was her progress, before the high lands of Marseilles were throwing their shadows before her path. Walter acting as second mate, his station was in his watch on deck, aft. He, however, still shared Ned’s berth, as the second mate was sick in his own. It was now his watch below; but in the present circumstances, no one felt any inclination to sleep, and he was, with all the rest of the crew, forward. At such a time, it is natural for those most acquainted to get together, and the men were divided into little knots, conversing in low tones. Walter, Enoch Hadlock, and Ben Peterson, having been schoolmates, and grown up together, formed one group, with Ned nestled close to the side of Walter.