"Yes; let us wait for a proper time to carry out our plans," I replied.
All hands sprang to their stations, as though nothing had happened.
"Starboard the helm!" continued the mate, taking his order from the captain, who appeared to be too drunk to handle the bark.
The order was given to ease off on the lee braces, and haul on the weather.
"Steady as she is! Avast hauling! A small pull on the weather main-topsail brace! That will do! A little more spanker-sheet. Belay, all!"
The bark was then headed about south-south-west, with the wind on the port quarter, which Baxter had declared to be her best point in sailing.
"The mate knows what that steamer is," said Sanderson, as we gathered together again on the forecastle.
"That he does; he knows what black smoke means," responded Baxter.
"Sartinly; he wouldn't run away from her, if he wasn't afraid of her. That's what one puppy does when he's afraid of another."
"I don't want any more proof that this is an unlawful voyage."