While the jolly-boat was gone Sam and Tom made heavy inroads on the crackers and cheese, and drank a good portion of the small supply of water they had taken on board at the cove, and which was intended to last until they reached the Elizabeth Islands. They were in excellent spirits, and talked and laughed over their meal, telling wonderful stories of what they intended to do when they reached their island, and not forgetting to say a word or two concerning the robbers and the trick they had played upon them. The jolly-boat came back in due time, with
Johnny and the lieutenant, who were pulled over the rail, conducted into the cabin, and tumbled into the bunks—not, however, until their feet had once more been securely bound. Johnny, especially, was very roughly handled by Tom Newcombe, who said to him, as he pushed him about:
"I knew I'd have a chance to square yards with you. You will learn, before I am done with you, that a man never makes any thing by imposing upon me. Don't you think I should be serving you right if I were to give you a good thrashing?"
Johnny, who was sitting on one of the bunks, looked down at Tom, and watched him while he tied his feet, but had nothing to say.
"You tormented me almost to death while I was in the village," continued the skipper. "If you passed me fifty times a day, you always had some question to ask about the Crusoe band."
"Well, that was because I felt an interest in the society, and wanted to know how the members were getting on," said Johnny.
"Do you know what I intend to do with you? I shall keep you on board this vessel until we arrive within a few miles of our island. Lie down there, now, and keep quiet."
As Tom said this he pushed Johnny into the bunk and went out, leaving him to his meditations.
If the captain of the pirate vessel could have his own way, the prisoner certainly had a dreary prospect before him. He felt a good deal as did Bob Jennings, when he lay on the sofa in the cabin of the Storm King, and Xury was taking her down the harbor in the face of the tempest. But his situation was worse than the fisher-boy's, for he was to be kept a prisoner until the voyage of the Sweepstakes was nearly ended. There was no sport in being obliged to remain in that hot cabin bound hand and foot; and when he remembered that the night promised to be very dark; that a black cloud hung threateningly in the horizon, and hoarse mutterings of distant thunder had been heard all the afternoon; that the navigation of the bay was at all times dangerous, and especially during a high wind; that Tom was scarcely sailor enough to handle a sail-boat in calm weather—when Johnny thought of all these things, it may be imagined that he was not very well pleased with his situation. The only consolation he could find was in the hope that the Sweepstakes might be speedily captured.
In half an hour all the prisoners had been stowed away in the bunks, the Crusoe men had satisfied their appetites, and the governor was ready to perform another duty that had been on his mind all the afternoon. It was something he did not like to do; but the well-being of the loyal members of the band demanded it. "Will Atkins," said he, "you an' Jack Spaniard take some grub an' water to the prisoners."