“Morgan’s, you mean.”
“Well, the scoundrel’s a guest, at any rate,” says the skipper, angrily.
“All’s fair in love and piracy. But, of course, if you’re going to stand on scruples with a pirate——”
“And pray what would you do yourself, Harry?”
“I should do what Mistress Morgan bid me,” I answered, promptly.
Brandon had nothing to say to that. “The question is,” he began again, “does he know we’re aboard? If that was his boat came sneaking in the dark, why, he does. If it wasn’t, he doesn’t know, but someone else does. And who may that be? Can it be Murch?”
“If you’ll take a humble clerk’s advice,” I said, “you’ll sit quiet instead of asking riddles; you’ll say your prayers, and keep your powder dry. This is Morgan Leroux’s affair. We have only to look on. If Dawkins doesn’t know we’re aboard, it were a pity to enlighten him. So keep dark, I say.”
The captain condescended to approve this counsel, and we made arrangements accordingly. The dinner—the notion of the dinner struck the skipper as so monstrous absurd, he could not bring himself to instruct the cook, and I had to do so—the dinner was to be served in the captain’s cabin. Next to the captain’s cabin was the great cabin, occupied by Morgan Leroux. We bored spy-holes in the bulkhead between the two, and then, there was no more to be done but to wait. The ship rolled at her moorings, blocks banging and clattering, cordage creaking; the brazen sunlight lapped ship and sea and shore in a blinding glare; the everlasting rumour of the breaking surf, unheeded in the ordinary course of occupation, began to wear upon the mind. All day long the shadows crept or receded upon the white beach, the rocks, piled or scattered, the lofty barrier of forest; all day long the far sea-line, joining the horns of the wide bay, lay vacant of the smallest blur; all day long the sea-birds screamed and dived about the ship, and rode on the heaving water. The shadows lengthened, and the heat lessened sensibly; the men had finished their work, and lay and lounged about the waist and forecastle, smoking and talking, while a savoury smell of cooking meats was diffused from the galley.
If we were but cruising for pleasure, now, with hearts at ease, what a good hour would this be: the day’s work done, the aromatic breath of the woods blown off-shore by the cool land-breeze, the stars beginning to shine in the quiet sky, the great peace of the night descending upon us; whereas, under the prick of hidden circumstance, the tightening cord of suspense, we could neither stand nor lie, and the shining calm about us served but to increase discomfort. But time must go, drag his feet as he may; and there came at last a little sound of music, as of drums and fifes, and the white triangle of a sail came round the point. It was a yawl, filled with people, and drummers and fifers making melody. We stayed until we distinguished Morgan Leroux sitting in the stern-sheets, alongside Mr Dawkins, then dived below, while the boatswain piped all hands to the side. We heard the familiar voice of Dawkins roaring out the stave of a nonsensical sea ditty, as his boat drew near, and from the sound, we took that eminent commander to be half-seas over.
“Oh, lay the helm a-starboard, and round on t’other tack!