“Eh?” sharply answered Obed, “if it be, it will be a hanging matter if we are caught with this young splice on board; he may belong to her for what I know. Look again, Paul.”
A long, long look.
“A man-of-war schooner, sure enough, sir; I can see her ensign and pennant, now that she is clear of the land.”
“Oh Lord, oh Lord!” cried Obed, in great perplexity, “what shall we do?”
“Why, pull foot, Captain,” promptly replied Paul; “the breeze has lulled, and in light winds she will have no chance with the tidy little Wave.”
I could now perceive that the smugglers made all sail, and I heard the frequent swish—swish of the water, as they threw bucketfuls on the sails, to thicken them and make them hold more wind, while we edged away, keeping as close to the wind, however, as we could, without stopping her way.
“Starboard,” quoth Obed—“rap full, Jem—let her walk through it, my boy—there, main and foresail, flat as boards; why, she will stand the main-gaff-topsail yet—set it, Paul, set it;” and his heart warmed as he gained confidence in the qualifications of his vessel. “Come, weather me now, see how she trips it along—poo, I was an ass to quail, wan’t I, Paul?”
No chance, now, thought I, as I descended once more; “I may as well go and be suffocated at once.” I knocked my foot against something, in stepping off the ladder, which, on putting down my hand, I found to be tinder-box, with steel and flint. I had formerly ascertained there was a candle in the cabin, on the small table, stuck into a bottle; so I immediately struck a light, and as I knew that meekness and solicitation, having been tried in vain, would not serve me, I determined to go on the other tack, and to see how far an assumption of coolness and self-possession, or, it might be, a dash of bravado, whether true or feigned, might not at least ensure me some consideration and better treatment from the lawless gang into whose hands I had fallen.
So I set to and ransacked the lockers, where, amongst a vast variety of miscellaneous matters, I was not long in finding a bottle of very tolerable rum, some salt junk, some biscuit, and a goglet or porous earthen jar of water, with some capital cigars. By this time I was like to faint with the heat and smell; so I filled a tumbler with good half-and-half and swigged it off. The effect was speedy; I thought I could eat a bit, so I attacked the salt junk and made a hearty meal, after which I replenished my tumbler, lighted a cigar, pulled off my coat and waistcoat, and, with a sort of desperate glee, struck up at the top of my pipe, “Ye Mariners of England.” My joviality was soon noticed on deck.
“Eh, what be that?” quoth Obed,—“that be none of our ditties, I guess? who is singing below there?’