“Is that the way to address your superior officer? Harkee, sir, for less than that I’ve clapped a man in irons. But I forgive you. Put your eye to the business end of this glass and tell me what craft is steaming up on the weather bows. My eyes are dim for the want of sleep.”
What with the swing and plunging of the “catcher,” it was some time before Frank could get the object within view, and when he did it was but a fleeting glimpse he had.
“It’s a Cape mail-boat,” he said; “I can make that out from her red funnels and grey hull.”
“Good. Now, would you know a warship if she showed at that distance?”
“Possibly, from her unusual breadth of beam—not to speak of her guns.”
“Well, my lad, keep a keen lookout, for there’ll be a lookout kept for us off the Isle of Wight, and be most particular in noting small craft. Set a thief to catch a thief, and as likely as not they’ll send a ‘catcher’ out from Portsmouth, and a cruiser from Plymouth. If you see anything strange in the movements of a steamer, blow down this pipe, and I’ll be up in a brace of shakes. I must have a wink before to-night;” and Webster, fetching a terrific yawn, went off down below.
Hume was left alone on the bridge, and, as far as he could see, there were only two other men on deck—the steersman inside the wheelhouse, and a seaman in a look-out shelter forward. It was a strange turn of the wheel which had placed him there in temporary charge of a torpedo-catcher, bound on he knew not what mad mission, and he shook his head once or twice in grave doubts of his own action, and of the conduct of those who so lightly trusted him—conduct which seemed to him to smack of the reckless. However, he entered upon his task without further thought of the consequences, letting his eyes sweep from right to left over the grey waters, and lingering here and there on a sail or a streamer of smoke. At first he eyed every ship with suspicion and fidgeted when a fishing lugger drove by before the wind, the crew peering under the boom at the long, low, swift craft; but after a time he reasoned he need fear no Craft which sailed on a parallel course up or down channel, and looked out only for sign of a ship making across. The sun mounted higher in the heavens, the wind fell away, and the Swift grew gradually steadier, and he could walk up and down the bridge without having to hold on at each step.
Close on noon Captain Pardoe came up to take a “sight,” retiring to the chart house to work out his bearings. The man at the wheel was relieved, and Mr Webster reappeared, looking as jolly as before, with a merry twinkle in his eye.
“Anything in view, Mr Hume?”
“Nothing but a couple of sailers and an ocean tramp, as I judge that steamer to be.”