When at length she retired to her own tent for the night, however, he became more communicative. I was already undressed and in my hammock, and he was sitting smoking beside me, and after a silence of some ten minutes or a quarter of an hour, during which he seemed to be ruminating deeply, he began.
“I’ve something to tell ye, lad,” said he, knocking the ashes contemplatively out of his pipe as he spoke, “but dash my ugly old wig if I’m at all sartain that I ought to say anything about it to-night, seeing as it can’t do much good, and might only be upsetting of ye for the night; but your head’s better nor mine in matters of this sort, and I confess I should like to have your idees upon the subject afore I sleep. Maybe they’ll in a way mark out a course upon which my idees can travel a good bit of a way betwixt this and morning, and even that much’ll be an advantage gained. The fact is, that I’ve see’d something as I didn’t expect to see whilst I was away up aloft there,”—pointing with the stem of his pipe backwards over his shoulder toward the mountain—“and the sight has disturbed me a little and set me thinkin’ a good deal.”
“Indeed,” said I, “what have you seen, Bob? You must perforce tell me all about it now, for you have excited both my curiosity and my apprehensions.”
“Not much need for the last, boy, I hope and believe,” answered he, “but it’s best perhaps as you should know at once—so, without any further palaver, the Albatross, the pirate-brig, is inside the reef, and is lying at anchor at this very moment in the bay where you was so near losing the number of your mess.”
“The Albatross!” exclaimed I; “nonsense, Bob; surely you must be mistaken! Is it not some whaler, think you, come in to water!”
“No, no,” said he; “it’s no whaler, Harry. Whalers wouldn’t come so far within the group as this here island. And when did ye ever know me mistaken about a vessel as has given us such good reason to remember her as this here brig? I knowed her the minute I set eyes on her: firstly, by a patch in her foresail, as you might ha’ noticed the last time we see her; nextly, by the shape of her main-topmast-staysail; and, thirdly and lastly, by the whull look of her, which enables a seaman to recognise a ship in the same way as one of your ’long-shore folks recognises an acquaintance in the street when they see him, though he may be dressed exactly like a score of other people within hail. And what’s more, I can make a pretty near guess as to what’s become of that whaler that he went a’ter when he found we wasn’t to be had, for I see he’s got three of the chap’s whale-boats, to replace the two as was expended in our little trifle of a brush, no doubt.”
“This is important news, indeed,” said I; “and news that provides matter for very serious reflection. What do you suppose has brought them in here, Bob? Did you see anything by which you could form an opinion?”
“Yes,” replied he, “I did. Want of water may be one thing; but it’s my idee that they’ve come in here to give their craft an overhaul, for they’d no sooner let go their anchor than they outs boats, and one watch pulls ashore and turns to building huts on the green, whilst t’other watch sends down t’gallan’ yards and masts, and unbends the sails and sends ’em all down on deck.”
“Then they are likely to make a pretty long stay,” said I; “and, in that case, we may be discovered at any moment.”
“That they’re likely to stay here some time I’ll not deny,” returned Bob; “but I don’t feel partic’lar oneasy about bein’ discovered. It’s like enough as some on ’em may take the fancy in their heads to scale this here bit of a mountain; but I’ve made it my business to give the place a reg’lar overhaul this a’ternoon, and the thing can’t be done from the south’ard—not without ladders, that is, and good long uns at that; and I’ve found out, too, that though you may get round to t’other side of the mountain from here, you can’t get down to the level ground beyond. I never see such a place, it’s nothing but precipices one atop of t’other; and there’s one place I come to which one man might defend ag’in just as many as ever like to come a’ter him, by just standin’ behind a sort of wall in the cliff and shoving of ’em over the edge as they tried to get round it. No, no; you make your mind easy on that p’int, lad; we ain’t to be got at except ’tis by water, and I reckon they’ll be all too busy to spare a boat’s crew to come the length of this; and if they did, it’s a thousand chances to one that they’d never find the openin’ into this here cove. Why, I run past it myself the day as we brought you in here wounded, and I’d never have found it if I hadn’t knowed just where to look for it. So it’s my opinion as we may stay here quiet and comfortable enough so long as we’ve a mind to; and then, when we’re tired of waitin’, we can slip out quietly in the night, and nobody be any the wiser. So much for that. Now for an idee that’s come into my head, and that I can’t get rid of noways. Wouldn’t it be a pretty trick to sarve these chaps, if we was to take the brig and carry her out to sea under their noses, leavin’ of ’em here to amuse themselves the best way they could?”