“Higgins,” cried Captain Conyngham suddenly, “below with you and fetch me one of the broadaxes from the carpenter’s chest. And stay,” he said; “bring me up a dozen nails, two of each kind. Sort them out carefully and make no mistake about it.”
The man hesitated.
“Below with you there,” the captain repeated, half fiercely, “and no questions.”
Reluctantly the tall sailor went down the forward hatchway.
“McCarthy,” called Captain Conyngham again, “go to my cabin and tell the boy to send me up my trumpet, and stay below until I send for you.”
The other men had listened to these orders in some astonishment. Even the first mate had cast an inquiring glance at the captain, but had said nothing.
In a few minutes the boy appeared with the speaking-trumpet. Captain Conyngham took it and held it out of sight beneath his coat.
The position of the English cutter was now a little abaft the beam of the Charming Peggy, but she was dropping farther and farther astern with every foot of sailing.
Suddenly across the water there was a hail. “Heave to, I want to speak to you,” came plainly and distinctly.
The captain, after his sudden orders to the sailors, had resumed smoking. Now he took the long pipe from his mouth and leaning forward placed his hand behind his ear as if he had not understood.