“Very good, sir; you’re officer, I’m only man; but I’m afeared of ’em.”
“I don’t believe it, Tom.”
“Well, sir, I don’t mean feared in one way, but in the t’other. I mean I’m feared they’ll get out, and if they do, and we surwive, they’ll either put us in irons or set us ashore.”
“They’ve got to get out yet, Tom. That cable’s heavy enough to keep them from opening the hatch.”
“Yes, sir; it’s heavy enough, but I can’t feel sure of ’em. These Yankees are such clever chaps. It’s wonderful what dodges and tricks they can think of. I only wish the Naughtylass would heave in sight, and take charge of both schooners. The blacks are enough to take care on without a gang o’ savage chaps like them below.”
Chapter Thirty.
A Joint Watch.
That day passed quietly enough. The weather was hot, but tempered by a gentle gale, which wafted them on their way; and, as Mark gazed at the verdant shore through a glass and then at the glistening sea, it seemed to him as if Heaven was smiling upon their efforts to save the poor weak, trembling creatures, who were ready to wince and shrink away every time he marched forward to where their part of the deck was shut off by a rope stretched taut from side to side. But as soon as he put off the stern official look he wore—an unconscious copy of Captain Maitland’s quarter-deck manner—and smiled at them, their faces lit up, and he felt as if they would go down upon their knees to him and kiss his feet, if he would permit it.