“’Tis a small deed to die for,” said I, “and, if I must go, perhaps I had better make my end doubly certain--”
At this moment Yankee Dan’s voice called, and I turned in time to see him approaching.
Jones, who had walked toward the boat, glanced back uneasily at me, but I touched my forelock, having no cap, and left Miss Allen. The big Welshman did not hear all of our conversation, but, lest he retail part of it to the men, I took the trouble to make it plain to him that such a trick would be reckoned as a great discourtesy to the lady and myself, and that a necessary settlement would therefore take place. Jones, in spite of his size, was a man of keen discernment and not without discretion. He was silent.
As the island was well wooded with fine large trees, it was but a short time before we had our topmasts on the beach ready to take aboard and set up. Jorg took charge of the spars, and we floated them alongside and hoisted them on deck, where he at once set to work upon them. Much of the ironwork from the wreck we had saved, and this shortened the job very considerably. Within a week from the day we dropped anchor, gant-lines were rigged and the new spars sent aloft. The backstays were then set up and the t’gallant-masts were sent up, one of these having been saved from the wreck and the other cut ashore.
The work of rigging kept all hands busy day and night, so we saw little of the town of Funchal. We went ashore once to buy a second-hand suit of t’gallantsails and royals, which were to be used as good weather canvas, and have an old maintop-sail recut, but there was little time even for sampling the wines I had heard so much about.
While we lay there, a large American brig came in and anchored near us.
She was evidently a trader by her look, and by her build and rig she appeared very fast and rakish. She flew the American ensign, and I was interested in her. As soon as we had a little respite from rigging, I asked permission to visit the stranger, and, to my surprise, it was granted. Neither Hawkson nor Howard appeared the least interested in the vessel, and had neither received a visit from her captain nor made a visit to him. When Bill, Ernest, Martin, and myself took the small boat that evening and started over to her, Hawkson called me aside.
“Take a peep below hatches if ye get the chance, and see what sort o’ guns she carries. Maybe ye’ll care to change ships,” said he, with his ugly smile.
As something of this nature had really been finding place in my mind, I suppose I flushed a bit. I had intended to desert, should the brig clear first, for slaving was no more to my taste now than formerly. From Richards’s silent behaviour I felt that I would not have to go alone, and I intended to broach the subject to the bos’n that very night.
“All right,” I answered, with a sinking of spirits I tried to conceal. “I’ll search her if I get the chance.”