“Because I can’t,” answered Johnson. “I’m an outlaw, and dare not show my face anywhere in the whole civilised world for fear of being recognised and hanged as a pirate.”
“A decidedly unpleasant position to be in,” remarked the skipper. “However, if there is any way in which we can lawfully help you, we will do so; in return for which we shall of course expect to be treated well by you. Now, Bowles,” he continued, turning to his chief mate, “let us talk this matter over, and discuss the manner in which this bad news can best be broken to the others.”
Saying which, with a somewhat cold and formal bow to the pirate, Captain Staunton linked his arm in that of his chief mate, and walked away.
The two promenaded the deck for nearly an hour, “overhauling the concern in all its bearings,” as Bowles afterwards described it, and they finally came to the conclusion that it would be only fair to let their companions in misfortune know the worst at once, then all could take counsel together, and as “in a multitude of counsellors there is wisdom,” some one might possibly hit upon a happy idea whereby they might be enabled to escape from this new strait.
They accordingly descended to the cabin, where their reappearance had been anxiously looked for.
“Well, captain,” exclaimed Dale upon their entrance, “what news have you for us? Have you made arrangements for our conveyance to Valparaiso? I hope we are not going to be kept cooped up very long in this wretched little vessel.”
“We are to leave her sooner than I anticipated,” replied Captain Staunton, “but I regret to say that I have been quite unable to make any arrangements of a satisfactory character. And, as to news, I must ask you to prepare yourselves for the worst—or almost the worst—that you could possibly hear. We are on board a pirate, and in the hands of as unscrupulous a set of rascals as one could well encounter.”
The skipper then proceeded to describe in extenso his interview with the pirate captain, throwing out such ideas as presented themselves to him in the course of his narrative, and winding up by pointing out to them that though the situation was serious enough it was not altogether desperate, the pirate leader being evidently anxious to escape from his present position, and as evidently disposed to look with friendly eyes upon all who might seem to have it in their power to assist him, either directly or indirectly, in the attainment of his purpose.
“Our first endeavour,” he said in conclusion, “must be to impress upon this man that, though we are his prisoners, we are still a power, by reason of our numbers as well as of our superior intelligence and knowledge of the world, and that we can certainly help him if we have the opportunity; and this idea once firmly established in his mind, he will listen to and very possibly fall in with some of our suggestions, all of which, I suppose I need hardly say, must be made with a single eye to our own ultimate escape. Our future is beset by difficulties, very few of which we can even anticipate as yet; but I think if each one will only take a hopeful view of the situation, it will be singular indeed if one or another of us does not hit upon a means of escape.”
By the time that he had finished speaking the brains of his hearers were literally teeming with ideas, all, that is to say, except Mr Dale, who, with elbows on the table, his head buried in his hands, and his hair all rumpled, abandoned himself to despair and to loud bewailings of the unfortunate combination of circumstances which led to his venturing upon the treacherous ocean. The others, however, knew him thoroughly by this time; and none troubled themselves to take the slightest notice of him except Rex Fortescue, who exclaimed—