“The pirate ship, I suppose, hey?” cried Frank.
“Yes, sir, no other. She’d followed us beyond a doubt from Porto Prayo, and would have come up before, if it hadn’t been for the gale. There wasn’t nothing to be done, of course. The pirates threatened the captain, if he didn’t surrender at once, that they’d fire down the hatchways and afterwards pitch every mother’s son overboard. And they’d have done it too.”
“Not a doubt,” assented Frank. “So my uncle surrendered?”
“Yes, sir, he did, but he didn’t like it. I must say, from what I’ve heard of these fellows, I judged that they’d have thrown us all in to the sea without mercy. But it seems White and O’Hara and the rest wouldn’t allow that, and insisted on it that every one, who chose it, should be allowed to leave the ship. I did ’em injustice, I must say.”
“What did they go in?” inquired Wilmore, a good deal surprised.
“In the two biggest of the ship’s boats, sir. You see we’ve been driven a long way south by that gale, and are not more than a few hundred miles from Ascension. They’ll make for that, and with this wind they’ve a good chance of getting there in three or four days.”
“Are all the officers and passengers gone?” asked Warley.
“Well, no, sir. Mr Lavie ain’t gone. The men stopped him as he was stepping into the boat, and declared he shouldn’t leave the ship. But all the rest is gone—no one’s left except those who’ve joined the mutineers, unless it’s poor old Lion, who’s still tied up in the fo’castle.”
“Why, you haven’t joined them, Jennings, to be sure?”
“I! no, sir; but with my leg I couldn’t have gone aboard the boats; and to be sure, I hadn’t the chance, for I fainted dead off as soon as I’d reached my berth, and didn’t come to till after they was gone. And there’s my nevvy too—he wouldn’t go, but chose to stay behind and nurse me. I hadn’t the heart to scold the lad for it.”