Grattan and Roberts were in the same watch, the port, which was in charge of young Lieutenant James Biddle. Jack Lange was in the other watch, and with him were two of the Constitution's men,—the little, black-eyed gunner, and a heavy, thickset man, who at first glance appeared to be too fat and clumsy ever to be a topman; yet he was, and one of the best.
Lange was stowing away his hammock but a few hours after the Wasp had gotten under way, when the short, thickset man approached him.
"D'ye see who is on board with us?" he asked. He pointed forward.
There, sitting with his back against the bulwarks was the Coward, his eyes staring straight before him, and his fingers and toes—for he was bare-footed—working nervously. Soon there came an order to shorten sail. There was a scramble to the shrouds, and among the first to reach them was McGovern. Close beside him was the fat topman.
"Out of the way, you swab!" he cursed, striking out with his elbow. "This is man's work," he added. "Out of the way, can't you!"
The hot blood rushed to McGovern's face. He hesitated. At that moment some one pushed him from behind, and before he knew it he had been hustled off the bulwarks to the deck. Without a glance behind him he slunk down the hatchway. And so he went back to rinsing the dishes in the galley.
Inside of three months the Wasp was back in port again. Once more McGovern disappeared. No one missed him, and no one thought about it.
On the 13th of October Captain Jacob Jones set sail again in his trim vessel, but just before the Wasp had left her moorings a boat rowed with quick, nervous strokes put out from shore. The man at the oars was doing his best to catch the sloop of war before she should gain headway. In the stern sheets sat an old woman. Now and then she would encourage the man pulling at the oars. There was a short, choppy sea, and both figures in the little boat were soaked with spray.
Suddenly the topsails filled, the headsails blew out with a vicious snap, and just as the sloop lurched forward, the little boat was abreast the forechains. The man dropped the oars, and, springing outboard, managed to catch the lower shroud; with agility he hauled himself up arm's length and sprawled over the bulwarks, down on deck. It was McGovern, and his strange coming on board had been observed by many. He arose quickly and gaining the shrouds once more, he waved his hand. "Good-by, mither!" he cried, and then he turned back to greet a burst of laughter. But all hands were too busy with the getting under way to pay much attention to him, and he disappeared below.
The next morning it blew a heavy gale, and for four days the wind lasted, and even after the danger had passed the day broke with a heavy swell on the sea and the weather yet boisterous. The Wasp's previous cruise had been uneventful. She had failed to fall in with the enemy, and now this continued stress of weather made the sailors, ever prone to find reasons in their superstitions, to think that they must have aboard with them a Jonah; some one who brought ill luck, and why they should have settled upon poor McGovern it would be hard to tell. Perhaps he was ignorant of the reason for the new meaning of the looks of dislike and suspicion that were cast at him, or perhaps he failed to notice them. At any rate he made no comment.