Leslie’s couch was a sleepless one that night; for the fact was that, taking everything into consideration, he could neither account satisfactorily for the presence of the barque at the island, nor convince himself that her errand there was an altogether honest one. Therefore, with the first faint flush of dawn he was again astir; and rousing Flora and the two men, he bade them get their breakfasts forthwith and make the best of their way out of the camp ere the barque’s people should have had an opportunity to see them and become aware of their presence on the island. And he further gave Nicholls and Simpson instructions to proceed with and complete the rigging of the cutter and the bending of her sails, in readiness for getting under way at a moment’s notice. Unfortunately the Flora had still to be provisioned and watered for her voyage; and it was just this fact, and the possibility that the strangers might be disposed to interfere with these operations, that discomposed him. But for this he would most cheerfully have marched himself and his little party out of the camp and left it, with everything it contained, to the mercy of the barque’s crew—whom he had already, in some unaccountable fashion, come to look upon as outlaws. He gave the men the strictest injunctions that Flora was to forthwith take up her quarters aboard the cutter, while they—Nicholls and Simpson—were to camp in the natural fortress to which he had that same afternoon drawn their attention, holding it against all comers, and on no account leaving it altogether unguarded, either day or night. As for himself, he announced that he would remain, as sole occupant of the camp, to meet the strangers and ascertain the reason for their visit; after which his further actions would be guided by circumstances.
Leslie was of opinion that, after the orgie of the preceding night, the crew of the barque would be in no particular hurry to turn out; and his surmise proved to be quite correct, for although he kept a keen watch upon the vessel it was not until nearly nine o’clock that he detected the first signs of movement on board her, in the shape of a thin streamer of smoke, issuing from the galley funnel. He then watched for the usual signs of washing down the decks, the drawing of water, the streaming of the scuppers, and so on, but could detect nothing of the kind; neither was the bell struck on board to mark the passage of time—two additional indications of the absence of discipline that still further increased his fast-growing uneasiness respecting the character of his unwelcome visitors. As soon as the light was strong enough, it may be mentioned, he had taken a look at the barque through his telescope, and had read the words “Minerva, Glasgow,” painted across her counter; he thus knew that the vessel was British, as, indeed, he had already suspected.
Now, it was Dick’s purpose to learn as much as he possibly could about the strangers, and to let them know as little as possible about himself—and nothing at all about his companions—in return, until he had had an opportunity to get some notion of their true character. He had therefore determined to pose as a solitary castaway; and now, in that character, proceeded down to the beach, stepped into the canoe, and began to paddle laboriously off toward the barque. For he knew that one of the first things to be done by the skipper of that vessel would be to bring his telescope to bear upon the island, and this would immediately result in the discovery of his tent, his pile of salvage from the brig, the hut, and all the litter upon the beach; and as it was consequently impossible to conceal the fact of his presence upon the island, he judged that the natural action of such a castaway as himself would be to eagerly seize the first opportunity to communicate with a calling ship.
The canoe being a big, heavy craft for one man to handle, it took him a full hour to paddle off to the barque; but it was not until he was within a hundred yards of her that he was able to detect any open indication of the fact that his presence had been discovered. Then he saw a big, burly-looking individual come aft along the vessel’s full poop, and deliberately bring a pair of binocular glasses to bear upon him. He at once ceased paddling, and, placing his hands to his mouth, hailed—
“Minerva ahoy!”
“Hillo!” came the response across the water, in a gruff voice that accurately matched the build and general appearance of the owner.
“May I come aboard?” inquired Dick resuming his paddle.
“Ay, ay; come aboard, if ye like,” was the somewhat ungracious response.
Without further parley Leslie paddled up alongside under the starboard main channels, and, flinging his painter up to an individual who came to the side and peered curiously down upon him over the bulwarks, scrambled up the side as best he could in the absence of a side-ladder, and the next moment found himself on deck.
He cast an apparently casual but really all-embracing glance round him, and noted that the barque was evidently just an ordinary trader, with nothing in the least remarkable about her appearance save the extraordinary paucity of men about her decks. Under ordinary circumstances and conditions, at this hour all hands would have been on deck and busy about their preparations for the carrying out of the object of their visit to the island—whatever that might be; instead of which the man on the poop, the man who had made fast his painter for him, and the cook—a fat-faced, evil-looking man with a most atrocious squint—who came to the galley door and stared with malevolent curiosity at him—were the only individuals visible. It was not, however, any part of Leslie’s policy to exhibit surprise at such an unusual condition of affairs, so he simply advanced to the poop ladder, with the manner of one a little uncertain how to act, and, looking up at the burly man who stood at the head of the ladder, glowering down upon him, said—