She bowed acquiescence, and turned to her book once more, with a manner indicating that the discussion was at an end; and I, accepting the hint, retired at once to my cabin to prepare a letter addressed to the skipper of the stranger, to be conveyed to him if opportunity should permit.
But although I had yielded a seeming acquiescence to Miss Onslow’s misguided wish to share my captivity—should it be continued—aboard the brig, it must not be supposed that I had any intention of lending myself to so terribly dangerous and mistaken a proceeding. It was perfectly clear to me that the high-spirited girl had, in some unaccountable way, completely missed the point of my remarks, and utterly failed to comprehend the frightfully precarious and perilous character of her position aboard the brig; moreover, her mere presence there served O’Gorman as a lever and a menace powerful enough to constrain me irresistibly to the most abject submission to his will; so long as she remained where she was, in the power of these ruffians, I could do absolutely nothing, for fear of what they might inflict upon her by way of revenge; but with her removed from their power, and placed in safety, I might possibly be able to bring every one of the wretches into the grip of the law that they had so audaciously defied. And so, when I began to pen my letter to the unknown skipper, I was careful—after briefly describing our peculiar situation—to appeal to him, as powerfully as I could, to effect the rescue of the girl by any means at his command, regardless of what might become of me.
Having at length finished my letter, I folded it up into a suitably small and compact form, placed it by itself in one of my pockets, in readiness to transfer it at the first favourable opportunity to the individual for whom it was intended, and then, filling my pipe, made my way leisurely up on deck to take a look round and see in what direction matters were trending.
It was a magnificently fine and brilliant moon-lit night, with only a few small, scattered shreds of light fleecy cloud floating overhead, and a soft, warm air breathing out from the north-east so gently that it scarcely stirred the oil-smooth surface of the ocean, which indeed it only touched here and there in faint, evanescent cat’s-paws that barely sufficed to give the brig steerage-way with squared yards and every possible inch of canvas spread. As for the barque, she was now about a point on the starboard bow, not more than a mile distant, and was evidently not under command, as she had swung round head to wind, and lay there in the bright moonlight swaying with an almost imperceptible swing over the long, low hummocks of glassy swell, with her canvas—gleaming softly and spectrally under the showering moonbeams. All hands—O’Gorman included—except the man at the wheel, were on the forecastle-head, intently watching her, and talking eagerly together, so I had a good opportunity to take a leisurely survey of her, and draw my conclusions as to her nationality. I went to the companion, secured the night-glass, and took a good look at her; with the result that I concluded her to be of French or Italian nationality—rather an awkward and unexpected development for me, I having foolishly taken it for granted that she would prove to be British and written my letter in English accordingly. And yet, perhaps, if my surmise should prove to be correct, I might be afforded a better opportunity to make an effective appeal for assistance than if the craft were British, for I gravely doubted whether O’Gorman or any of his people spoke French or Italian, and if that were the case they would probably require me to act as interpreter for them, and thus afford me just such an opportunity as I desired. On the other hand, I could not but feel that an appeal for help, made to a French or an Italian crew, was much less likely to meet with a favourable response than if made to a crew of Britons.
These reflections passed through my mind as I stood peering through the tube at the becalmed barque; it did not need a very prolonged scrutiny to enable me to learn all that was possible of her at that distance, and presently I replaced the glass in its beckets, and proceeded to saunter fore and aft the deck, from the wake of the main rigging to the wheel grating, smoking meditatively the while.
By the time that I had smoked my pipe out we had neared the barque to within less than half, a mile; and I was momentarily expecting to hear O’Gorman give the order to round-to and lower away the boat—wondering, meanwhile, how on earth I could possibly contrive to get my letter conveyed to the skipper—when the Irishman came shambling aft and, placing himself at my side, inquired:
“Well, misther, have you finished your shmoke?”
“Yes,” I answered curtly. “Why do you ask the question, pray?”
“Because,” he replied, “I’ll have to ask ye to just step down below and stay there for the rest of the night!”
“To step down below—and stay there?” I repeated indignantly. “What do you mean, man? Surely I am not to be sent to my bunk like a child, whether I wish to go or not?”