Island of seeming contentment, where even human beings live but to idle and to lounge and to love.
Yes; but an island on which our heroes must not linger, for twice during the night a dark shape glided across the moon’s bright wake, and those on watch on board the Tonneraire knew it was the waiting, watching foe. But when day broke no foe was to be seen. Captain Mackenzie stayed therefore only long enough to take in extra stores, water, and fruit, and to permit his fleet to do likewise; then the signal was made, “Up anchor, and to sea!”
In silence the anchors were weighed on board the man-o’-war; but accompanied on the merchant-vessels by the never-failing song, with its frequent abrupt conclusion, without which merchantman Jack finds it impossible to carry on a bit of duty.
“Hee—hoy—ee! Hee hoy! Pull, and she comes! Hoy—ee—ee! Hoip!”
All that day the young captain of the Tonneraire kept his fleet well together. Not an easy task, for although the wind was by no means high, and was moreover favourable, being north-east by east—the course steered about north-west, the convoy bearing up for Halifax and the Gulf of St. Lawrence—still the sailing powers of the vessels varied considerably. The strength of an iron chain equals the strength of its weakest link, and the speed of a fleet of merchantmen is measured by that of its slowest sailer. While at San Miguel, Jack had tried to impress this upon the minds of his various skippers. He held a meeting of these on board a large full-rigged ship, and told them their motto must be, “Keep together,” as the danger of an attack was imminent. Slow sailers must carry stun’-sails when they found themselves getting behind, while the fast must take in sail.
They admitted this.
“It is as plain as the nose on my face,” said one intelligent skipper, who had a huge red bulbous proboscis you could have almost seen in the dark. “We’ve got to play up to you, Captain Mackenzie, just as the small fry plays up to a great hactor on the stage.”
This was all very well, but then they did not do it, so that the rate of speed was slow; ships and barques having to haul their fore or main yards aback at times to wait for the lazy brigs who either couldn’t or wouldn’t set stun’-sails. And at eventide, while the sun was going in a lacework of golden cloud, and looking so red that he appeared to be ashamed of the fleet, the vessels were scattered all over three square miles, and Jack Mackenzie, not now in the best of tempers, had to collect them as a collie pens his sheep.