“Sartin sure, sir. Why, you talk as frightened like as we poor lads were.”
“What vessel was it, then?”
“Oh, I don’t know what she was, sir. I only know what she warn’t. That’s enough for us, eh, sir? I say, sir; what weather! Rather different to what we had in the French port. Looks settled too. Nice and cool the air feels. There, it’s only fancy, but it’s just as if I could sniff the land.”
“How far are we away, Joe?” asked Rodd.
“Long way, sir. But I say, Mr Rodd, sir, I wouldn’t say anything down below. It’d only skeer the lads and set them thinking all night.”
“But wouldn’t you say anything about having seen that ship?”
“Oh, if you like, sir. The skipper ought to know. But I can swear she warn’t a man-of-war, and that’s enough for us. Oh, there is the skipper. My word, though, you can hardly see him! Curus, isn’t it, how the mist begins to gather? Pretty good sign we are not so very far off the shore. Will you hail him, sir, or shall I?”
“You, Joe.”
A brief conversation ensued, question and answer ending by Joe’s declaration that he believed it was a brig; and then they descended to the deck.