"The captain will go ashore to chin with the governor accordin' to the rules an' regulations of the navy, an' after that the old chap will visit us."
"But what of a change of heart, Master Hackett?" I asked with a laugh. "I thought you counted on our getting a different reception from what we met with last."
"All this visitin' an' firin' salutes don't cut any ice. It's a way these 'ere swells have, no matter how they're feelin'. That puffed up old governor might come aboard of us a dozen times, hobnobbin' with the officers, an' yet be jest as willin' to cut our throats. Wait till the Phœbe heaves in sight, an' then we'll have a fairly good idee of whether they're friendly or not."
"Are we lying at our old anchorage?" Phil asked.
"Not a bit of it, my lad. We're well out in the bay, where we can get under way in a jiffy, an' the Essex Junior is cruisin' around outside, so's to give us warnin' when the Britisher heaves in sight."
"Then the captain is expecting a fight?"
"Expectin' it, lad? Why, he knows it's got to come! The only thing we're in the dark about is how soon the Britisher will show up."
Phil and I took turns going on deck during this and the following day, and I was on the forecastle twenty-four hours after our arrival, when the governor, his wife, and a boat-load of officers, came off to pay a ceremonious visit.
It was near sunset when Master Hackett visited us again, and this time he had quite a budget of news to unfold.