Sail Ho! A Boy at Sea

by George Manville Fenn

The probability was that he would now come into the saloon.

Where should I go! There was not a moment to lose, and my first impulse was to dart forward into the captain’s cabin—a mad idea, for the chances were that Jarette would come right through the saloon and enter it. So darting to the side, I felt along it in the dark for the first cabin-door that would yield, found one directly, and had hardly entered and drawn to the door when I heard Jarette’s step at the companion-way; and as it happened he came in and along my side of the table, so that at one moment, as I listened by the drawn-to door, he passed within a few inches of where I was hiding.

The next minute there was a creaking sound, and the saloon was dimly lit-up, telling me that our enemy had opened the cabin-door and gone in. But he did not stay. I heard the clink of a glass, and then a repetition of the creaking sound, the saloon darkened again, and as I listened I heard his step returning. This time, though, he did not come back on my side, but on the other, stopping for a few moments evidently to listen at the door where his prisoners were confined.

For a moment I thought he meant to go in, but I heard his footsteps commence again, pass on to the companion, and there they ceased.

This was terrible; for aught I knew he might be standing there listening as he kept his uneasy watch, and for some minutes I dared not stir.

At last though, to my great delight, I heard a step overhead, and now without farther hesitation I stepped out, hurried to the cabin at the end, guided by the light which came through the nearly closed door, entered, and shut it behind me before looking round.

A lamp hung from the ceiling, there was spirit in a flask, and the remains of some food upon the table; but what most delighted me was the sight of three guns lying on a locker near to the cabin-window, which was wide open, and I felt that I should only have to show myself for the boat to be rowed beneath.

My first want was a rope or line, my next a supply of ammunition for the guns, and there was neither.

I felt ready to stamp, with vexation, for I might easily have brought a line wrapped round me, but neither Mr Brymer nor the others had thought of this, and unless I could find a fishing-line in one of the lockers, I felt that I should have to go back on deck.

At that moment I remembered that Captain Berriman had a number of small flags in one of the lockers—that beneath the window. Four or five of those tied together would answer my purpose for lowering the guns, and if tied to the window they would be strong enough for me to slide down.