“Ay, ay,” responded another, “there’s a good deal of satisfaction in that idea, although it’s hard to lose a chum so sudden-like. I’ll miss him mighty bad—I will—as we always messed together—eating out of the same pan and using the same knife and fork.”
“That is hard,” responded the old tar, “but after you’ve lost as many chums as I have, you won’t think so much of a matter of this kind.”
Further conversation was now prevented by the voice of the captain ordering the men to wear ship, and as soon as this task had been accomplished, two men were posted upon the knightheads to keep a good look-out.
This duty, however, was soon rendered almost unnecessary, by a dead calm, which fell upon the sea before the vessel had advanced a mile upon her new course. The sails hung motionless upon the yards, and a feeling of unaccountable drowsiness stole over the weary helmsman. He could scarcely keep his eyes open, and it was only the presence of the captain, who, with rapid and impatient strides was walking the quarter-deck, that prevented him from indulging in sleep.
“Mr. Spooner,” said the skipper, addressing the second mate, who was near the companion-way bathing his wounded hand in cold water, “I can’t endure this fearful suspense much longer. I shall have my boat manned immediately after supper, and shall go in search of Alice!”
“Hadn’t you better wait until morning?” said the old man. “We are at the least about four leagues from the ice, by this time, and then in the darkness of the night—it is getting dark even now—coupled with this fog, you won’t stand much chance of finding your niece.”
“I can’t endure this suspense. I should lose my senses before morning! I must look for her, and that as soon as possible!”
“Supper is ready, sir!” cried, at this moment, the Portuguese steward, Joseph, thrusting his head through the companion-way.
Joe had escaped the handcuffs by a plausible tale, in which he made it appear that he had no hand in the conspiracy to take the ship, and had exhibited the red stripes upon his back, stating that Lark had flogged him because he rebelled against his measures. Howard, who was not of a suspicious nature, credited this story; but the steward fearing that the prisoners in the run—or if not they, the young harpooner, Harry Marline, and his friend Stump—(in case they should ever be picked up)—would eventually betray him, had resolved to make his escape from the ship as soon as possible.
The helmsman, whose drowsiness has been noticed, had been drugged by the Portuguese, who had presented him with a glass of drugged liquor soon after he took his position at the wheel. The consequence was that, by the time the decks were deserted by the officers and crew—who had gone below to get their suppers—the steersman’s head dropped upon his breast and he fell into a deep slumber.