“All ready with the cat, sir,” was the responsive shout, soon followed by the customary words, “All ready with the fish, sir,” while the men, the starboard anchor being got on board, duly secured, or, in more nautical terms, catted and fished, clapped on the port or remaining anchor, which now alone held the brig, gently rolling to the swell, and that in its turn being soon up and down, Mr Blount reported to his superior officer.
“Do you make out the boats, sir?” he added, as Captain Weber still remained looking towards shore.
“Ay, ay,” replied the seaman. “There’s Dom Assevédo’s barge, the lubberly Portuguese blowing and puffing like grampus at their oars.”
“Rig out a tackle from the main yard. We shall have to hoist the lady in, and perhaps the Dom too, like a bale of cotton.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” replied the mate.
“Make sail, Mr Blount; brace up the headyards. Let me know when you are ready.”
Ten minutes later the passengers were on board, and Dom Assevédo’s barge veered astern.
“It’s rather hard I can’t speak to my lady passenger,” said Weber, as he went down below with the party.
“Tell him I can understand English, though I am afraid to speak it,” said Isabel in French to Hughes, who was by her side.
“Ay, ay, my pretty one, we’ll soon take the shame-faced-ness out of you; nothing like blue water for doing that. Well, you tell the Dom that I’ll send all his traps below. Senhor Assevédo, I can’t give you much law,” said the old seaman, in his rough hearty tones, as he turned to return to his post. “Steward, show the lady her berth. Look alive, man,” he continued, calling down the hatchway.