“Well, I’ll try him,” said Carter; “you let him know, and I’ll send Dave over to you.”
Jake stood in the broiling sun, scraping the paint from the house—ugly work in the heat, and a hideous noise, but no vessel ever stood into port in more perfect trim than the Cumbermede, and this voyage every particle of the old paint must be removed from aft, and she was to shine brighter than ever in new. He did not stir as he heard the mate approach, but he watched him with eye and ear from under his broad hat. The mate stopped beside him, and Jake set his teeth, with the thought that whatever came, it was one of the last times.
“You go over to the first mate’s watch to-night, and much joy may he have of you,” was all he said, and passed along.
Jake started, and the knife almost fell from his hands. Were they suspected? Discovered? What did it mean?
But he went on with his work, as if the mate had only spoken to a statue. Penfield passed back and forth, but Jake did not dare lift his eyes to read his face. At any rate, he had the rest of the day for a lookout; it would be his watch below soon, and he could consult with the others.
“Now I tell you, shipmates, that’s a lucky thing all round,” said Ratlins. “Maybe they’ve got a scent on the wind; I don’t know, but it don’t look to me much like foul weather, and if they’re only wind-clouds, why then we’re all out of a bad business easy; and what do you care what the second-mate is to us, Jake, so long as he keeps out of your wake?”
“But I wont keep out of his,” said Jake. “Do you think I’ll let go as easy as that?”
“Easy,” said Ned. “You may as well reef topsails and scud before the wind a day or two, anyhow, till you see how she trims. We sha’n’t be out more than three weeks now, and there’s no great fun going into port down in the hold, with iron bracelets on.”
“What’s that got to do with paying off scores?” said Jake; but though the scowl was still dark, he turned in without another word.