CHAPTER XI.
“SHEEP AHOY!”
Meanwhile Eugene, whose astonishment and indignation knew no bounds, was striking out vigorously for the wharf. Like Chase he began to believe he had ample reason for declaring the expedition a failure, and to wish he had known better than to urge it on. The yacht was lost, with no prospect of being recovered; Bab was a prisoner in the hands of the deserters, and there was no knowing what they would do with him; he was alone, in a strange country, his brother and all the rest of the Club having disappeared; and Fred Craven was still missing—perhaps had already been sent off to Mexico under the Spanish sea captain. This was the worst feature in the case, and it caused Eugene more anxiety than the loss of the yacht. Concerning himself he was not at all uneasy. He was in full possession of his liberty, was a passable sailor, and could easily find a vessel bound for the States; but what could poor Fred do in his helpless condition? Eugene was so fully occupied with such thoughts as these that he forgot that he was in the water; and neither did he know that he was an object of interest and amusement to several men who were watching him. But he became aware of the fact when he rounded the brig’s stern, for a voice directly over his head called out, in a strong foreign accent:
“Sheep ahoy!”
“You’re a sheep yourself,” replied Eugene, looking up, just in time to catch a line as it came whirling down to him, and to see half a dozen sailors in striped shirts and tarpaulins, leaning over the brig’s rail. Seizing the line with both hands he was drawn out of the water, and in a few seconds more found himself sprawling on the vessel’s deck in the midst of the sailors, who greeted him with jeers and shouts of laughter.
“Now, perhaps you see something funny in this, but I don’t,” exclaimed Eugene, as he scrambled to his feet and looked around for the Banner. “Do you see that craft out there? She belongs to my brother, and those fellows have stolen her and are running away with her. I am a stranger to this country, and its laws and ways of doing business, and I don’t know how to go to work to get her back. Perhaps some of you will be kind enough to give me a word of advice.”
The sailors ceased their laughter when he began to speak, and listened attentively until he was done, when they broke out into another roar, louder than the first. The one who had thrown him the rope slapped him on the back and shouted “Sheep ahoy!” while another offered him a plug of tobacco. The truth was, they had seen Eugene jump overboard when Tomlinson came aft to seize him; and, very far from guessing the facts of the case, they believed him to be one of the yacht’s boys who had taken to the water to escape punishment for some offence he had committed. They could not understand English, and there was only one among them who could speak even a word of it; and all he could say was “Sheep ahoy!” (he intended it for “Ship ahoy!”) which he kept repeating over and over again, without having the least idea what it meant. They thought that Eugene was trying to explain to them how badly he had been abused on board his vessel, and his vehement gestures and angry countenance excited their mirth.
“Get away with that stuff!” cried the boy, hitting the plug of tobacco a knock that sent it from the sailor’s hand spinning across the deck. “Stop pounding me on the back, you fellow, and shouting ‘Sheep ahoy!’ I’m no more of a sheep than you are. Is there one among you who can talk English?”
“Sheep ahoy!” yelled the sailor, while his companions burst into another roar of laughter, as the owner of the tobacco went to pick up his property.