While the young Tristaner was explaining matters to his comrades in the boat—from which all the stores had now been removed that had been brought off from the island and a few extra articles put in, which Captain Brown had made them a present of, as “boot” to the bargain of barter—the wind began to spring up in gusts, causing the ship’s sails to flap ominously against the masts.
“Guess you’d better be off,” cried the skipper, coming to the side, where the two brothers and the young Tristaner who was going to accompany them stood leaning over, having a parting palaver with those in the boat below. “The breeze is risin’, an’ if you don’t kinder care ’bout startin’, I reckon we must. Shove off thaar!”
“All right,” sang out one of the islanders, casting off the rope which attached them still to the ship. “Good-bye, and mind you bring our countryman back safe.”
“You bet,” shouted the skipper. “I’ll take care o’ him as if he wer my own kin. Now, Eric,” he added, “you’ve got to tend your duties to the last aboard, you know; away aft with you an’ see to the mizzen sheets. All hands make sail!”
The topsails were dropped at the same moment and sheeted home, while the jib was hoisted; and the ship, paying off, forged slowly up to her anchor.
“Now, men,” sang out Captain Brown sharply. “Put your heart into thet windlass thaar, an’ git the cable in! It’s comin’ on to blow hard, an’ if you don’t look smart we’ll never git out of this durned bay in time!”
Clink, clank, went round the unwieldy machine, as the crew heaved with a will, their movements quickened by the urgency of getting under weigh without delay, and each man exerting the strength of two.
“Heave away, men!” chorussed the mate, standing over them and lending his voice to their harmonious chant. “Heave! Yo ho, heave!”
A few hearty and long pulls, and then the anchor showed its stock.
“Hook cat!” shouted the mate; whereupon, the fall being stretched along the deck, all hands laid hold.