“Have you lads grown chicken-hearted from bein’ down here in the dark? What need have we of muskets while the Britishers remain safe behind them ’ere wooden bars?”
“There’s no knowing what might happen,” I replied, speaking gravely in order that the words should have more weight. “It isn’t safe to think everything is in proper order when there’s a chance that appearances may be deceitful.”
I was looking full in the face of one of the prisoners as I spoke, and it seemed to me that the fellow changed colour; but of this I could not be positive.
However, I did not stop many seconds to observe the effect of my words.
It seemed to me certain I could succeed in gaining speech with the captain, regardless of the orders that no one should go aft, and I followed Simon on deck, feeling that such time of suspense as had been caused by the Britishers would soon be at an end.
On the gun-deck we found the watch off duty, or a certain number of the men, crouching very close together in private converse, and this, to my mind, boded no good.
They ceased talking as Simon and I approached, which was additional proof that they had been plotting mischief.
Surely the gale, which appeared, judging from the ship’s motions, to be increasing in force each instant, and the knowledge that we were in hot pursuit of an enemy, should have kept their thoughts from mutiny; but that which they had seen and heard was too mysterious and uncanny to be driven from their minds, whatever the counter attraction.
Simon and I literally clawed our way along, forced to keep a firm hold continually upon something, else the terrific upward bounds and downward plunges of the ship would have flung us headlong against the gun-carriages.
I had never before found it so difficult to keep my footing; never believed a huge ship could be tossed in such fashion by the wind and waves.