“No,” said the captain sharply, “I shan’t. Now then, look alive there.”
The anchor was soon after swinging from the bows, the sails filled, and the brig began to glide down with the stream, and by the time the cabin breakfast was at an end the banks of the muddy river were growing distant, and various signs pointed to the fact that they were approaching the open sea. That evening, with a gentle breeze from the north sending them swiftly along, the low coast-line looked dim and distant across the muddy waters, the mighty rivers discolouring the sea far away from land, and, glass in hand, Brace was seated in a deck chair trying to make out some salient point of the South American coast.
Then all at once something dark eclipsed the picture formed by the glass, and Brace Leigh lowered it suddenly from his eye to try and make out what it was. He found that it was the second mate’s head.
Chapter Eight.
Something Startling.
“Evening, sir,” said Lynton. “Growing too dark to see much with a glass, isn’t it?”
“Yes; I was just going to shut it up and put it in the case,” replied Brace. “I say, don’t you go and sham dead to upset us all again.”
“There you go!” cried the mate angrily. “I did think it was going to drop now. Nobody seems to believe my word.”