“And now the fairy dream is over, what do you intend to do when we reach the Cape, Enrico? Surely I have a right to ask,” said Isabel.
“If you have eighteen months’ leave of absence, Senhor,” said the noble, “come with us to Portugal for your answer; you can make your arrangements in England.”
The Senhor Enrico could not have wished for a pleasanter invitation, and he eagerly closed with it.
“That topgallant sail is drawing, Mr Lowe; cast off the tow-rope, recall the boats, and hoist them in. Tell off the watch, and send the crew to supper. Let the steward give them an extra ration of grog. Take a pull at the starboard tacks and sheets. Lay her head to the west-south-west.”
The wind, which was very light, was from the eastward, consequently the brig, her yards rounded in, was running free, the boom-mainsail was hauled out, the heavy folds of the mainsail let fall, and the jib hoisted. One by one the studding-sails were set, and the black hull once more supported a towering mass of white canvas. With all this the “Halcyon” only just held steerage way, the wind coming in hot puffs from the distant mountains of the Amboitmena range, at times filling the canvas and making the bubbles fly past as the “Halcyon” felt the breeze, then dying away, while the useless sails flapped heavily with the gentle roll of the waves.
Her captain seemed silent and anxious, and would not leave the deck. Dinner had been announced, but Captain Weber had only dived below to reappear again in a few minutes, and, telescope in hand, was sweeping the coast line with his glass. He bad evinced no signs of anxiety to his guests, but as he paced the lee gangway of the brig, he showed no such reticence to his mate.
“One hour’s good blow from yonder mountains and we should be well clear of this coast,” he said.
“Do you think, Captain Weber, the fellow dare attack us again after the taste he had of our quality last night?” inquired the mate.
“If the scoundrels could get possession of the brig, they would soon find the means to arm her,” replied the captain; “and the west coast of Madagascar is one series of indentations, coves, and bays, fit refuges for these sort of craft.”
“The clouds are resting on the top of the mountain range, sir; I fancy we shall have more wind just now. How far do you reckon we are from land?”