“Mr Armitage,” said I, in a low cautious tone of voice, “the brig is adrift, and driving down past us with the tide in the direction of the river.”
“The brig adrift!” he repeated incredulously. “Nonsense, Mr Hawkesley, you must be dreaming!”
“Indeed I am not, sir, I assure you,” I replied earnestly. “I have this moment come from aloft, and I saw her topgallant-masts most distinctly over the top of the mist. She is away over in that direction, and scarcely a cable’s length distant from us.”
“Are you quite sure?” he asked, aroused at last by my earnest manner to something like interest. “I can hear no sound of her.”
“No, sir,” I replied; “and that, in conjunction with the sounds which I undoubtedly heard just now makes me think that something must be wrong on board her. Do you not think the matter ought to be reported to Captain Vernon?”
“Most certainly it ought,” he agreed. “Is it possible that the crew have taken the ship from their officers, think you?”
“I scarcely know what to think,” I replied. “Let us speak to the captain at once, and hear what he has to say about it.”
Thereupon the third lieutenant directed Keene, one of the midshipmen, to take temporary charge of the deck; and we at once dived below.
“Well, Mr Armitage, what is it?” asked Captain Vernon, as we presented ourselves in the cabin and discovered him and Mr Smellie chatting together over their wine and cigars.
“I must apologise for intruding upon you, sir,” said Armitage; “but Hawkesley here has come to me with a very extraordinary story which I think you had better hear from his own lips.”