As we approached, all remained quiet and still on board the frigate. We stood on—not a soul seemed to notice us—we crossed her stern—still all silent, and at length we rounded to under her lee. We were so close that one might have chucked a biscuit into her gangway.
"Are you waiting for a boat, Mr Lanyard?" at length said the officer of the watch, the old gunner.
"No, no," he replied, "I will be on board presently."
Sprawl was roused out, and in a few seconds we were in our own tiny skiff, and approaching the frigate. All continued dark and dismal, as we looked up at her black hull, dark sails, and tall spars. She was rolling heavily, the masts and yards groaning, the bulkheads creaking and screaming, and the topsails fluttering and grumbling, until the noise, every now and then, ended in a sounding thump, as if the old ship, in all her parts, were giving audible indications of her impatience of the tedious calm; while her stained canvass appeared to be as heavy as if a wetting shower had just poured down. We approached, and as the man in the bow stuck his boat-hook into the old lady's side to fend off, the sidesman handed us the man-ropes, and presently we were all three on the Gazelle's quarterdeck.
Every thing was wet and uncomfortable—the heavy dew was dripping down from the shrouds and rigging, and every lumbering flap of the topsails sent a cold shower pattering on deck. The watch had all roused out from the booms, and were clustered on the hammock cloths, looking down on us. When we got on deck, they followed us as far aft as they thought they might venture to do, while others again had hung themselves in a variety of ways over the side to get the marrow of our secret out of our boat's crew. The old gunner was arrayed in his pea-jacket and blue trowsers, as if he had been in the North Sea; and the red sparkle of the light in the binnacle glanced on the face and chest of the sunburned seaman at the wheel.
"How is Sir Oliver, and Mr Garboard, and Mr Donovan?"
Any man who has lived in such a climate will evince no wonder at the anxiety and rapidity with which the questions were put.
"Why, all pretty well," said the gunner. "Sir Oliver, indeed, has been ill, but is now better—and Mr Garboard is nearly all right again; he took the forenoon watch yesterday, sir. But as for Mr Donovan, why, sir,"——
"Never mind, never mind," said Sprawl; "send down to Sir Oliver, and say that we have got on board."
The man dived, and presently brought a message that Sir Oliver desired to see us in his cabin.