Then the brig trembled slightly and ceased to list, and when the clamour died away I heard a man shout:
"'Tis no use, Cap'n. I couldn't get another foot out of her."
"How long does the flood make?" asked a voice which I recognized as Captain Jeremy's.
"First high water is about five hours from now," replied the first speaker. "If the wind doesn't change we'll have to wait till then. That'll give you an hour and a half to clear the bar afore the second flood makes."
I heard Captain Miles rattle out a round oath, but further conversation was inaudible through the sounds on deck. Nevertheless, I had heard enough to fill my cup of misery to the brim: unless the wind changed sufficiently to enable her to stem the tide, the Golden Hope would be compelled to remain at anchor for five hours--five hours more of bodily and mental torture for me.
Yet I had to bear it, or own myself beaten, for I felt convinced that so long as the brig remained within the limits of Poole Harbour, Captain Jeremy would put me ashore in a longboat, or else send me back with the pilot.
Another hour or so passed, yet there were no signs of 'Enery. The heat began to be intense, for the sun was now as high in the heavens as it could possibly be, and its rays, pouring down upon the decks, caused the atmosphere of the hold to become stifling.
The wind, too, had dropped, for the ropes and sails no longer rattled and flapped. But Captain Jeremy was not the kind of man to allow his crew to remain idle, for I could hear water being poured on the deck to clean away the dirt brought aboard from the quay. This, to a certain extent, cooled the hold, and I felt all the better for it.
"A breeze! A breeze from the nor'east!" I heard a voice exclaim, and almost immediately after came the sounds of men rushing hither and thither, and the creaking of blocks and tackle. Then, with the measured tramp of feet as the capstan revolved, the cable descended slowly into its tier, adding to the odours of the hold the pungent smells of seaweed and mud.
The regular heel of the brig gave place to a confused pitching and tossing, signs that I hailed with delight, in spite of a qualmish sensation which the motion seemed to encourage.