“I wish,” exclaimed the captain, “that something would come along—something to receive Van Laar! The fancy of that fellow confined in his berth is not very agreeable to me. Jimmy tells me that he smokes all day; that he removes the pipe from his mouth merely to eat. Then, indeed, the pipe is for some time out of his mouth.”
“Sail ho!” I exclaimed at that instant; for, while he addressed me, my gaze was upon the sea over the lee bow, and there, like a hovering feather, hung a sail.
Greaves looked at her, and exclaimed:
“I hope she is coming this way. I hope she is homeward bound, and that she will receive Van Laar.”
We applied our eyes to our quadrants, made eight bells, and, leaving Yan Bol to keep a lookout, went below.
“How am I to foist Van Laar upon a ship’s captain?” said he, as we entered his berth to work out the latitude. “Is he a passenger? Then he must pay. But Van Laar is not a man to pay, and not one doit shall I be willing to pay for him. Is he a distressed mariner whom we have picked up? No. What is he but an inefficient officer, full of mutiny, beef, tobacco, and schnapps? I may find difficulty in persuading a captain to take him. I hope it may not come to it, but I fear I shall be forced to throw him overboard.”
We worked out the latitude and entered the cabin. Galloon sat upon his chair at the table, watching Jimmy lay the cloth for dinner.
“What are you going to give us to eat, Jimmy?” said the captain.
“Oh, I know, master,” replied the lad with his foolish smile; and here I observed that Galloon looked at him. “It’s roast beef to-day, master.”
“There is no fresh beef in the ship; therefore we are not going to have roast beef for dinner. Corned beef it is, not roast beef. Say corned beef, not roast beef.”