"Very well, sir. You may be sure I will keep my weather-eye open."
Mr. Atherton shook his head when in the morning he saw the boats being lowered, and heard from the first officer the orders he had received.
"From what you say there is water enough to last us to Wellington if we are all put on somewhat shorter allowance, and that would be infinitely better than running the risk of your going ashore."
"The water might last if all goes well," the mate said, "but if we were to get becalmed for some time, which is likely enough in these latitudes, we should be in an awkward fix. I shall keep a sharp look-out on shore, never fear. The distance to the spring is, as I told you, not above fifty yards, and I will keep half the men filling and the other half on guard. If they should mean mischief we will give it them hot."
"How many men will you take?"
"Sixteen—ten in the cutter and six in the gig."
"That would only leave us ten on board," Mr. Atherton said. "If they attack you they will attack us too, that is a moral certainty. At any rate, I will hint to some of the passengers that they had better keep their arms in readiness while you are away."
Mr. Atherton refused to go down to breakfast when the Allens came up to relieve him after finishing their meal.
"We will have both watches on deck this morning," he said. "We shall be very short-handed while Ryan and his party are away. Unfortunately the captain is convinced there is not the slightest danger. He snubbed me this morning quite smartly when I said casually that I supposed that he would not let any of the natives on board while Ryan was away."
As the rest of the passengers came up from breakfast, Mr. Atherton spoke to some of those with whom he had been most intimate on the voyage, and told them that he thought it would be just as well for them to bring their arms on deck and keep them close at hand until the watering party returned.