Mr Mackay couldn’t stand this, and he walked down the poop ladder to conceal his amusement; and I followed him when I found him bent on consulting Tim Rooney as to what was to be done, the captain being hopeless at present.
“Be jabers, we’re in a pritty kittle av fish an’ no mistake!” said Tim when asked his opinion about the situation. “We might be able to kedge her off, sorr, an’ thin ag’in we moightn’t; but the foorst thing to say, sorr, is whither she’s all roight below.”
“A good suggestion,” answered Mr Mackay. “Tell the carpenter to sound the well at once.”
“That’d be no good at all, sorr,” interposed the other, “for the poor craythur’s got her bows hoigh an’ dhry, while she’s down by the starn. The bist thing as I’d advise, sorr, excusin’ the liberty, is to get down alongside an’ say if she’s started anythin’. That big scrape she got as she came over the rafe, I’m afeard, took off a bit av her kale, sorr.”
“Right you are, Rooney, sensible as ever,” said Mr Mackay. “We’ll have a boat over the side at once and see to it.”
This, however, was a work of time, for the jolly-boat, which was the only one of moderate size we had left, since the dinghy had been carried away in the typhoon, was stowed inside the long-boat; and so purchases had to be rigged to the fore and main yards before it could be raised from its berth and hoisted over the ship’s bulwarks.
But, all hands helping, the job was done at last; when Mr Mackay descended the side-ladder into the boat along with the boatswain and a couple of men to pull round the ship, so as to ascertain what, if any, damage she might have received. I could not help noticing, though, that the captain did not exhibit the slightest interest when the first mate submitted what he was about to do and asked his permission—only telling him that he might go if he liked, but he thought it of little use!
I should have liked to have gone with them too, and I mentioned this to Tom Jerrold, as he and I leant over the bows and watched the jolly-boat and those in her below us; for although Tim Rooney had spoken of the ship being “high and dry” she was still in shallow water forward, the shelly bottom being to be seen at the depth of two or three feet or so, the beach shelving abruptly.
While the two of us were looking at the boat, though, and the island in front spread out before us, with its solitary tree, ruined Chinese pagoda and all, which Ching Wang was also inspecting with much interest from the forecastle, we were suddenly startled by a shout aft from Captain Gillespie, who still remained on the poop.
“Hi, Mackay,” he cried, “come back. Here is that blessed proa and junk, and a whole fleet of pirates after us!”