“No,” from all hands.
“But,” continued Ted, “for such a captain as you be, and in such a cause, we will fight, every man Jack of us, as long as the saucy Arrandoon has a timber above the water. Am I right, mates?”
A ringing cheer was all the reply, and Ted retired.
Now, reader, were I a landsman novelist I would very likely here make my captain give the orders to “splice the main-brace,” but I’m a sailor, and I tell you this, boys, that British seamen never yet needed Dutch courage to make them do their duty.
Captain McBain only waved a hand and said, “Pipe down.”
An hour afterwards the crow’s-nest was rigged and hoisted at the main-truck, and either the mate or the captain was in it off and on the whole day. But no pirate appeared that day nor the next. In the evening, however, some fishermen boarded the Arrandoon, and reported having seen a large barque, answering to the description of the suspected craft, that same morning lying at anchor off Suddersoe, with boats passing to and fro ’twixt ship and shore.
“It is my precious opinion, captain,” said old Magnus Bolt, “that this craft does a bit o’ smuggling ’tween here and Shetland.”
“And it is my precious opinion, my dear Magnus,” said McBain, “that the rascal doesn’t care what he does so long as he lands the cash.”
The Arrandoon was now kept away for the island named by the honest fishermen. Not straight, however; McBain gave it a wide berth, and passed it far to the west, and held on his course until many miles to the southward. In the morning it was “bout ship” and stand away north and by east again. They sighted the island about seven bells in the morning watch. Suddenly there was a hail from the crow’s-nest. It was the captain’s voice.
“Come up here, Magnus Bolt, if your old bones will let you, and see what you shall see.”