I next turned my attention to the door itself. It was of stout timber, far too strong to be broken open by anything short of an axe and fastened, moreover, by the bolts that I had heard drawn. Presently, therefore, I desisted from my inspection, and seating myself upon the locker, I gave myself up to my reflections. The light grew feebler and feebler in the cabin, until at length it died out altogether, and I was left in the darkness to speculate upon the strange adversities of fortune. As for the steward’s threat of the galleys, I swore desperately to myself that such a fate should not be mine, though as yet I could see no glimmer of light as to how I was to accomplish my escape. One thing I had in my favour. The vessel was yet at anchor and remembering the fact of the stillness of the evening air, I thought it unlikely that a breeze would spring up for many hours, so that there was time before me wherein to formulate a plan.
It was not until some two hours later that I saw a light glimmer upon the ceiling of the cabin and heard a heavy step descending the ladder. A moment later the bolts were withdrawn and the mate himself appeared in the doorway. In one hand he carried a lantern, which he held up the better to view me. He was followed by a boy bearing a coarse brown loaf and a pitcher of water. These the latter set upon the boards and withdrew. Yet the mate lingered for a moment, making pretence of waiting to see if I should speak.
“There is your supper,” he said at length, finding that I kept silent.
“’Tis coarse enough fare,” I said abruptly, “and quite in keeping with your lodging.”
“Yet be content,” he answered, “’tis better than that of your men.”
“Ah, they are aboard, then?” I said quickly; for up till now I had been so taken up with considering my own position that I had scarcely given a thought to them.
“In irons,” he answered, grinning. “And you, too, had we another set aboard.”
“Bah!” I replied nonchalantly, concealing the trepidation his words caused me. “There are worse things, my friend, and it is not far to France.”
“Ho, ho, ho!” he chuckled. “To France—no! It is not far to France, as you say.”
Something in the man’s words—in his face—caused me a vague uneasiness.