“Oh, if you have had a watch aboard your vessel all the time they could not have got here without your knowledge, so there’s no use in searching the ship. Good-by, captain. I wish you a pleasant voyage.”
Seeing that Mr. Heyward and his companions were about to go over the side, Guy ducked his head and beat a hasty retreat into the forecastle.
“Whew!” he panted, drawing his coat-sleeve across his forehead, “wasn’t that a narrow escape? I don’t think much of such laws as they have in this country, anyhow. I haven’t done anything to be punished for, and yet Mr. Heyward, if he could have found me, would have had me locked up in jail for a whole month. It’s lucky I didn’t sign my right name to the articles.”
Guy was aroused from his reverie by the sound of bustle and hurry on deck, and while he was wondering what it was all about he was summoned from his hiding-place by the hoarse voice of the second mate. When he reached the deck he found that preparations were being made to get the ship under way. There were four sober men in the crew—those Guy had found on the vessel when he first came aboard—and Guy and the mate made six. There were fourteen sailors in the bunks below, so that the vessel’s company, counting in the captain and leaving out the first officer, who for some reason or other had not yet made his appearance, numbered twenty-one men.
“Now, then, look alive.” said the mate. “There’s only a few of us to do this work to-night, but there’ll be more in the morning. Here, Thomas, clap on to the standing part of that messenger, lead it aft, and make it fast to a ring-bolt on the starboard side.”
Every word of this command was Greek to frightened and bewildered Guy, who stood looking about the deck undecided which way to turn. He had heard of “messenger-boys,” but he did not know that there were any on board, unless he was one, and he couldn’t see the use of leading himself aft and making himself fast to a ring-bolt, whatever that might be.
“Sir?” said he, as soon as he had collected himself so that he could speak.
“Sir!” echoed the mate with a terrific oath. “I spoke plainly enough, didn’t I? Where’s your ears?”
“They’re on my head. But I don’t see any messenger-boy.”
“Messen——Who said anything about a messenger-boy?” roared the mate. “What’s this, you lubber?” he continued, picking up a rope which led from the place where they were standing through a block made fast to the cable and thence to the capstan. “What is it, I say? But look here, my hearty, didn’t you ship for an able seaman?”