“Forsake her—desert? Not me! She’s unlucky, sir, and no one can’t help it. Bad luck comes to every one sometimes, same as good luck does, sir. We takes it all, sir, just as it comes, just as we did over the landing t’other day—Titely was the unlucky one then, and got a spear through his shoulder, while though lots of their pretty weapons come flying about us no one else was touched; on’y got a bit singed. He took it like a man, sir.”
“That he did, Tom. It was most plucky of him, for he was a good deal hurt.”
“Yes, sir—deal more than you young gents thought for. But no, sir: forsake or desert our ship? Not we! She’s a good, well-found craft, sir, with a fine crew and fine officers. They ain’t puffick, sir; but they might be a deal worse. I’m satisfied, sir.”
“I believe you, Tom,” said Murray, laughing, “and there is no black cat on board, for if there were some one must have seen her or him before now, and it wouldn’t have made a bit of difference.”
Chapter Seventeen.
Overhauling a Stranger.
It was the very next morning just at daybreak that the lookout on the fore-top hailed the deck with the inspiriting cry that sent a thrill through all who heard, and brought the officer of the watch forward with his glass.
“Sail ho!”