You see I was in charge of the brig, and could do as I chose. Yet was it right that I should report the sail to Greaves, and I called to Yan Bol, who stood in the waist, and bade him keep a lookout for a few minutes while I went below. Jimmy came out of the captain’s berth as I entered the cabin. The lad held open the door, and I passed in.
“I have come to report a sail right ahead, sir.”
He turned his eyes upon me with such a look as you may behold in the gaze of an old man straining after memory.
“A sail?” he exclaimed.
“Yes, sir.”
“Ay, ay.”
He smiled strangely, fetched a long, trembling breath, and said:
“Suppose she should prove a galleon? We are rich enough, Fielding. Leave her alone—leave her alone.”
“She is no galleon. She is a small trader, I reckon, and will be abreast of us and astern while we’re talking about her.”
“We have as much as we need,” said he. “Don’t imperil what you’ve got, man. D’ye know, Fielding, I fear my sight’s beginning to fail me. Jimmy gave me the Bible just now. The type’s big and it came and went in a dissolving way like a wriggle of worms in water. I would to God there was a priest aboard. I want to ask some questions.”