“What! does he intend to take her?” I said.
“Never mind,” said Sam Peters, “forewarned is forearmed; and I don’t think that any Jack Spaniards of the lot will be able to take a Bristol brig manned by Bristol men.”
“Just you two keep this quiet,” said Willie to Peters and Adams; “and you, Warspite, if you say a word about it you’ll be sent to work with the Kruboys.”
Just as he said this the look-out men hailed that the captain was coming off, and we were very glad to think that he would soon be among us and able to judge for himself what should be done.
CHAPTER V.
A RUN ASHORE.
As soon as my father came on board he said, “Why, what is all this? where is Pentlea gone, and what does your letter mean?”
We soon told him of how Simon Pentlea had left, and the condition in which we had found the cabin when we broke into it. On looking round, he said that matters might have been much worse; for though the doubloons Camacho had given for the stores and some fifty pounds in English money had been stolen, the mate had not found out the place where he kept his greatest store of coin, nor yet where the corals and valuable beads worth five hundred pounds were kept. Altogether with the cloth and the money that had been taken the loss would amount to two hundred pounds. But the breaking of the chronometer and barometer was a serious matter, as he did not see how they could be replaced. As night was now coming on, we could not lodge a complaint with the caboceer of the beach before morning; and it was much to be feared Pentlea would have cleared out before then. As for obtaining any satisfaction from his slave-dealing friends, that was not to be expected at all.
As it was there was nothing to do but to put the cabin straight and wait for the morning. My father then went on shore again, and this time took me with him, as he said I could be useful to him in writing down the goods he was selling and the produce he was to receive for them.
I was delighted with the idea of a run ashore, and dressed myself in clean white clothes, and was going into the boat, when Fore-topsail, who was boatswain of the one we were going to land in, said, “Why, massa, s’pose water come in boat where white kit be.” I ran down again for my waterproof, which I was going to put on, but I was stopped by Willie, who said I should only put it over my shoulders, so that if the boat should capsize I should be clear of it at once.
We shoved off from the ship, the Kruboys sitting at the sides of the boat looking forward, and as they dashed their paddles into the water, striking up a wild song to which they kept time, Fore-topsail stood up aft and steered with an oar, giving them occasional bits of solo—I was going to say melody, but to an Englishman the vocalism of these fellows did not possess melody.