"But, sir, you described him as being as thin as a handspike."
"So I did, lad; but he has filled out since then. 'Twas a score of years ago at least. But rest easy in your mind concerning him, for he has been to the Indies for the last four years, and only landed in Chatham a month ago, the sole survivor of the barque Enterprise. I know that, for I saw his papers."
With that there was no more to be said; yet, though I might be mistaken, I resolved to keep a close watch on the movements of Master Ned Slater.
Favourable winds bore the Golden Hope to the Azores, where I had my first impression of foreign parts. Then, after a three days' stay, we shaped a course for the Bermudas; but, owing to constant head winds, Captain Jeremy decided to run south, so as to pick up the north-east Trades.
For several days we sailed over a vast expanse of ocean, with never a sail to break the regular skyline. The days, too, were rapidly becoming hotter, while the hours of daylight appreciably diminished, though the nights were warm and balmy, so that keeping a watch on deck was robbed of all discomfort.
At length one morning the sun rose red and fiery, betokening a change in the weather; and barely was it clear of the horizon when the cry was heard, "Sail, ho!"
"Whither away?" asked Captain Jeremy, as he ascended the poop, glass in hand.
"A point off our starboard bow, sir," replied the seaman who had picked up this craft.
With the naked eye we could distinguish the topsails and t'gallants of a brig, the hull being still below the horizon. Captain Jeremy clapped the glass to his eye and examined her intently.
"What's amiss with her?" he exclaimed. "She's hove-to."