Johnson turned away and walked thoughtfully fore and aft, with his chin sunk upon his breast, evidently in painful thought, for some ten minutes; then he rejoined the pair he had left standing at the hatchway, and said—
“See here, strangers; I reckon it’s no use to mince matters and go beating about the bush; the thing’s got to come out sooner or later, so you may as well know the worst at once. You must give up all notion of going to Valparaiso, because the thing ain’t to be done. We’re a crew of free-traders, rovers—pirates, if that term ’ll serve to make matters more clear to you; and although we’ve only been cruising in these waters about six months, I guess we’ve made things too hot here for us to venture into any port but the one we’re bound to. There you’ll be put ashore, and I calculate you’ll have to make yourselves useful at the depôt. There’s plenty of work to be done there, and not too many to do it, so you’ll be valuable there. I won’t keep you on board here, because I can see you’d never work with me or be anything else but an anxiety to me; but there you can’t do me any harm. And, take my advice, stranger, don’t cut up rough—go slow and sing small when you get there, because my chief mate—who is a Greek, and is in charge there—is a powerful short-tempered man, and apt to make things downright uncomfortable for them that don’t please him.”
Captain Staunton and Bowles looked each other in the face for a full minute, too much overcome by consternation and dismay to utter a single word. Then the skipper, recovering himself, turned to Johnson, who stood by intently watching them, and said:
“I thank you, sir, for having come to the point and put our position thus explicitly before us with so little waste of time. Happily the evil is not yet irreparable. We can never be anything but a source of anxiety and disquietude to you, as you have already admitted; therefore I trust you will allow us to return to our boat as we came; by which act we shall relieve you of a very great embarrassment, and at the same time give ourselves a chance—a very slight one, it is true—of arriving at the place we are so anxious to reach.”
“Too late, stranger,” replied Johnson. “Here you are, and here you must now stay. Look over the side and you will see that your boat is no longer there. She was stove and cast adrift half an hour ago. And even if she had still been alongside, do you think my men would let you go now that you have been aboard of us and seen our strength? I tell you, stranger, that before you could get ten yards from the brig they would bring her broadside to bear upon you and send you all to the bottom, riddled with grape, and I couldn’t stop ’em. No; you’re here, and I reckon you’ll have to stay and make the best of it. You’ll find your traps down below there; the lads wanted to overhaul them, but I guess I shamed them out of that,” drawing half out of his pockets a pair of revolvers as he spoke.
“Are we to consider ourselves as prisoners then, and to look upon the hold there as our jail?” inquired Captain Staunton.
“That’s as you please,” retorted Johnson. “So long as you keep quiet and don’t attempt any tricks you can come on deck as often as you like—only don’t let the women-folks show themselves, or they’ll get into trouble, and I—nor you—won’t be able to help ’em. Tell ’em to stay in the cabin until it’s dark to-night, and then when all’s quiet, the watch below in their hammocks and the watch on deck ‘caulking’ between the guns, just you muffle ’em up and get ’em down there as quick as ever you can.”
“And what about the rest of my people—those of them who were sent forward to the forecastle?” inquired Captain Staunton.
“Waal,” replied Johnson, “I felt myself sorter obliged to clap ’em in irons down in the fore-hold. You see you muster a pretty strong party, and though you could never take the brig from us, I didn’t know what you might be tempted to try, when you found out the truth; and so, just to prevent accidents, I had the irons slipped on to ’em. They’ll be well treated, though; and if any of ’em likes to jine us, so much the better—we’re uncommon short-handed, one way and another. If they don’t like to jine, they’ll just be put ashore with you to work at the depôt. And, see here, stranger, don’t you go for to try on any tricks, either here or ashore, or it’ll be awful bad for you. This is a friendly warning, mind; I’d like to make friends with you folks, for, to tell you the solid petrified truth, I ain’t got one single friend among all hands. The mate hates me, and would be glad to put me out of the way and step into my shoes, and he’s made the men distrust me.”
“Why not retire from them altogether, then?” inquired Captain Staunton.