Jack Jimmy, much piqued at being laughed at, raised his shoulders, and answered stoically—“Me no know; but me tink we better go.”
“Yes: we are not doing anything here, and there does not seem much prospect of having better luck,” said the master, “let us go.”
He then took up his paddle from the bottom of the boat, and put it over the stern to steer it.
The men began to row, and the little boat began to move through the water.
The Indian canoe, which had remained all the time as passive on the water as the fishing-boat, was now also put in motion, by two paddles, and seemed to be steered in the same direction as the fishing-boat. Jack Jimmy saw this, opened his eyes, and cried, in a voice that began to tremble,—“Dey da come, too.” The master looked round, and saw in truth that the canoe was following in their wake.
The three persons now became somewhat uneasy, and anxious, about the intentions of their mysterious follower. After a time, however, when they saw it was not gaining ground upon them, nor seemed to be propelled with any intention of coming up to them, these feelings were considerably diminished, and they pulled calmly along, while the canoe followed at the same distance from the little boat.
When the fishing-boat had reached to within a mile of the ships which lay in the harbour of Port of Spain, the master was challenged by a brisk “Haloo” from the man at the stern of the canoe.
“Haloo, there!” cried the man in a commanding voice, “haloo, there—stop!”
The master paid no attention to this order, but pretended that he did not hear it, or did not consider it addressed to him, and he remained silent; but Jack Jimmy had not so much command over himself.