“How can I send to my father?” said Willie. “The blackguard has robbed us, and with both surf-boats away we cannot send ashore.”
“Surely, sir,” said Sam Peters, “you have Frying Pan’s canoe; he can take a piece of paper ashore in that.”
“Certainly, I had not thought of it; pass the word for Frying Pan.”
Frying Pan soon came, and seeing the state of the cabin, said,—
“Dat mate be bad tief man; me always tink him bad.”
“That may be, Frying Pan,” answered Willie; “but now I want you take book one time to captain.”
Frying Pan ran up on deck at once, and by the time Willie had written the letter (or book as the Krumen called it) his canoe was in the water, and with Bottle of Beer as his companion, he was ready to start to tell our father of the desertion of Simon and his stealing the contents of his chest.
We had caused a watch to be kept on Pentlea from the mast-heads, and the sharp eyes of the Kruboys who were intrusted with this duty made out that on landing he went straight up to a large factory flying the Portuguese flag, and that the surf-boat was hauled up and there were no signs of her coming off again.
As soon as Frying Pan had started we began to try to put things in order, and soon found that Pentlea had been malicious as well as a thief, for the ship’s chronometer and barometer were both broken; and we found that Camacho’s doubloons, as well as a considerable sum in English gold which my father had in the chest, had been taken.
“I suppose we shall be able to catch him,” I said.