“Have you told the Captain?”
“I did; and he scowled horribly. You know how pleasant he looks when he is put out; and he went down straightway and tumbled the gentle pirate into his cell, at the same time threatening to clap Commins in irons if he sought such congenial society again.”
“And—?”
“Commins swore most foully. I never thought the creature had such a command of language; but the skipper asked him if he would complain to the Commodore, when he calmed down rapidly into soft words and treacherous smiles. I tell you he is a plotter, and if anything goes wrong with the rebels—the National party, by compliment—he would sell us for a brass candlestick. Now, if you will dash in, cut him out as he lies at his moorings in the light of her friendship, I will not bring my fascination to bear upon her.”
“I’m afraid it’s hopeless,” said Frank, with a sigh; “and don’t you think we are talking without book?—for we have no reason to suppose that she wishes to be freed from the attentions of Mr Commins, still less that she is in any danger from him.”
“You’ve got too much of the calculating machine in you, Frank—a defect we sailors don’t possess. This is a matter not to be reasoned about I can feel in my marrow that the man is a scheming rascal.”
The Quartermaster struck eight bells, and Webster went off to take a sight, the Captain having already entered upon that daily task.
They were three days off Cape Verde, having made the islands to take in more coal, and were making across the Atlantic, in a south-westerly course, right out of the track of vessels. When Hume, who was looking forward listlessly, cried out, “Ship ahead!” there was unusual interest aroused, and glasses were brought to bear upon the distant speck.
“A steamer!” cried Captain Pardoe, “and lying to, for there’s not so much as a stain of smoke against the blue of the sky beyond.”
The men and officers, now thoroughly aroused from their drowsy torpor, stared at the distant ship which had so suddenly slipped from the horizon into this silent sea.