“Oh, bother! I don’t believe he would.”
“What’s that?” said a gruff voice.
“Only this, sir,” said Roberts to the first lieutenant, who had drawn near unobserved; “only Murray croaking, sir.”
“What about, Murray?” asked the elderly officer.
“I was only saying, sir, that we shall not overhaul the schooner if her people sighted us first.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of, my lads,” said the old officer. “This haze may be very good for us, but it may be very good for them and give their skipper a chance to double and run for one or other of the wretched muddy creeks or rivers which they know by heart. There must be one somewhere near, or she would not have ventured out by daylight, and when we get within striking distance we may find her gone.”
The lieutenant passed the two lads and went forward, where he was heard to give an order or two which resulted in a man being stationed in the fore chains ready to take soundings; and soon after he was in eager conversation with the captain.
“Feeling our way,” said Murray, almost in a whisper, as he and his companion stood together where the man in the chains heaved the lead, singing out the soundings cheerily till he was checked by an order which resulted in his marking off the number of fathoms in a speaking voice, and later on in quite a subdued tone, for the haze had thickened into a sea fog, and the distance sailed ought to have brought the Seafowl pretty near to the schooner, whose commander might possibly take alarm at the announcement of a strange vessel’s approach.
“I’m afraid they must have heard us before now,” said Roberts softly. “Ah, hark at that!”
For as the man in the chains gave out the soundings it was evident that the depth was rapidly shoaling, when, in obedience to an order to the helmsman a turn or two was given to the wheel, the sloop of war was thrown up into the wind, the sails began to shiver, and the Seafowl lay rocking gently upon the swell.