“They won’t catch her, sir, by fair means. If they do, it will be by seamanship, and having plenty of hands to manoeuvre.”
“Well, Tom, it seems as if we can do nothing?” said Mark.
“No, sir, ’cept sit on the deck and growl, and that won’t do no good, will it? Wish we could see how Joe Dance is getting on.”
“I’ve thought every way I can,” continued Mark, “but I can find no means of escape.”
“Might perhaps get on deck when it’s dark, sir. Dessay I could manage to get up enough to make a jump on to the chap on the watch, and hold him till you were all alongside.”
“A desperate venture, Tom.”
“Yes, sir, and we’re all desperate now, I can tell you.”
No more was said then, and after making a hearty meal from the provisions in the cabin, the men sat about and went off fast asleep, worn out as they were with watching and exertion.
But Mark could not sleep. There was the great sense of responsibility to keep him awake, and the question always troubling him: Had he done the best as an officer who had succeeded to so important a charge?
He went to where Mr Russell lay in his berth, and bent over him for a few minutes, but only to go away again with his feeling of misery increased, and seat himself once more at the cabin window in the hope of catching a glimpse of the other schooner when a tack was made; but fate did not favour him. All he could make out was that the vessel must be sailing south and south-west, and the one they were in keeping on in full pursuit.