“No, my lad, no,” he cried. “How can I see her if she is not here?”
“But I thought you said she had shifted her moorings, sir?”
“Yes, and gone down the river somewhere. Hang it all, she can’t have sailed without us.”
“They wouldn’t do that, sir,” I cried, feeling quite startled at the idea of the ship leaving us with our small boat in the midst of strangers. “Why, she must have had news of some other junks, sir, and gone in pursuit, or is it a mistake? We can’t have come far enough. No; this is the spot.”
The men were looking at me inquiringly, just as men accustomed to be led lean on their superiors for orders, even if one of those superiors be a mere boy, while I, acting in precisely the same spirit, looked up to Mr Brooke, and listened excitedly for what he would say next.
It seemed to be a long time before he spoke, and then it was between his teeth and with angry vehemence, as he dropped down into his seat.
“After all this hard struggle to get back with our news,” he muttered, in so low a tone that I only heard his words, while the men sat with their oars balanced gazing forward to see if they could make out the Teaser’s funnel and tall spars. “They ought not to have stirred; it’s playing at dog and the shadow. Here have we brought the substance, and they are snapping at the reflection.”
“Mr Brooke!” I said in a whisper.
“All right, my boy; don’t be down-hearted. It’s the fortune of sea life. Here we are, tired, hungry, and hot, with a badly leaking boat, and a far from friendly place to land in and get her repaired.”
“But they can’t have gone far,” I said.