The artist’s handiwork had probably been interrupted by the arrival of the picket-boat.
The table was certainly of a temporary nature and laid without regard to the possibility of the schooner rolling in bad weather. There were no fiddles to keep the plates, cups and saucers from sliding to the deck, while no attempt had been made to secure the pyramids of fruit from a similar fate. A feast was apparently to be held there in the day—it was now four o’clock in the morning—but for whom? The schooner’s crew was not likely to exceed seven or eight; where were the remainder of the feasters coming from? Almost certainly from one of the inhabited islands comprising the Mutches. Why, then, did the schooner’s crew, making preparations for a Christmas Day treat to the fisherfolk of the island, suddenly desert their vessel with every indication of panic?
The coxswain, on being asked for his explanation, fell back upon his previous theory.
“They thought we were ghosts, sir; and cleared off as fast as they knew how.”
“Perhaps they are still on board—or, at least, some of them,” suggested Kenneth.
“They can’t have made a bolt for the forepeak and put a padlock on outside after they were in,” said Wilson. “May be there is someone aft. I just glanced through the skylight but didn’t take particular notice.”
“We’ll see,” decided the midshipman.
He was the first to descend the steep wooden ladder aft. A waft of warm air mingled with the odour of roasting meat greeted him. Compared with the bitter wind without and the gnawing pangs of hunger of which he was beginning to be acutely conscious, this silent greeting from the skipper’s quarters was particularly welcome.
There was a bulkhead lamp burning in the lobby at the foot of the ladder. To starboard was the galley with an anthracite stove burning. On it were three saucepans simmering gently and prevented from sliding off by a low railing. In the oven was a large piece of beef which was showing indications of being overdone.
“That’ll be good grub wasted if it stops there,” remarked Wilson. He found a cloth and smartly removed the baking dish from the oven.