As he still leaned over the bulwarks, the boat was seen to reach the sloop-of-war, to stay alongside awhile, and then to return, heavily laden, towards the shore.
“Nice freight that, Ned,” said the second mate. “Old England ought to grow clean in time, sending out such cargoes as she does. I wonder how many they have here. Can’t say I should like to have them for neighbours.”
“Not pleasant, certainly,” said the other; “but here’s the skipper back.”
“I shall not go ashore again till to-morrow morning,” said the captain, coming on deck; “and if either of you want a few hours, settle it between yourselves who’s to go; and the other can see the rest of the passengers’ traps ashore. I shall sail to-morrow evening. We can do the rest of our business when we come back from the bay.”
The captain then went below; and after a short consultation, Edward Murray undertook two or three commissions, stepped into the boat, and was rowed ashore.
Any place looks pleasant after months on shipboard; but in reality, though charming enough from the deck of a ship, there was little to be seen fifty years ago at Port Caroline beyond the houses of a straggling little town, built without regard to regularity, but according to the fancy of the owner of each plot of land. It was busy enough, so far as it went; but there was a grim cold look about the place, made worse by the principal buildings—those connected with the Government convict works; and after making a few purchases, Edward Murray strolled out along the shore to where the white breakers came foaming in to dash upon the sands.
The sloop had apparently discharged her convict freight; and the young man stood and looked at her for a while in deep thought.
He was thinking he should like to command a vessel like that. “But then,” he sighed to himself, “how about Katie?” And he walked on, musing in no unhappy way.
“Now, boys—heel and toe!” shouted a rough voice.
“Hooroar! heel and toe!” was sounded in chorus; and from a turn in the cliff came slowly into sight about five-and-twenty of as ill-looking ruffians as ever walked the face of the earth. They were marching slowly, in a single line, and at the veriest snail’s pace.