Mr. Pollak and the colonel went on board with me. It was a rich glowing day, a number of white steam-like clouds were circling above Cape Town, but low over the water, brushing it into a wide sheet of rippling blue splendour, a hot fresh breeze was blowing; it swept straight down the Bay, with a brassy light in the air that made you think of the wind as coloured by the yellow glares of the sandy land it had travelled across.
Mr. Pollak had on several occasions visited the brig; the colonel had not before viewed her close; he was greatly pleased and hummed a tune approvingly as he accompanied me about the decks. One detail of furniture, his own suggestion, he lingered over; it was a bright brass cannon mounted on the quarter-deck.
'He'll do for you!' he exclaimed, slapping the breech of the piece. 'That should fetch an echo loud enough to awaken the dead.'
A little further aft stood a mortar, with its round mouth gaping at the sky.
'What's that for?' asked the colonel. 'Isn't the gun noisy enough to alarm 'em if they're aboard?'
'It is my idea,' said Mr. Pollak. 'Suppose it should be impossible to scale the slope and reach the ship; here is an engine that will throw you a ball and line which anyone on board may catch and pull ladders up by.'
'Good!' exclaimed the colonel.
We then examined the two fresh boats which Captain Cliffe had purchased on my behalf; they were large, strong, handsome whale-boats, strengthened by iron beams or girders under the thwarts; and made lifeboats of by a quantity of cork fenders carefully laced or otherwise seamed along the sides.
'These,' said I, 'together with rope ladders hooked for scaling, and grappling irons, form my machinery.'
'It is all you will need,' said Mr. Pollak, 'and I am sure everyone must pray that God will bless and prosper your noble voyage.'