Mr. Mulready was dark with dirt and sweat, and looked like a man who has passed a week in stowing a ship's hold. Captain Parry stood in the gangway to receive him, and the mate's immediate inquiry was for the commander. He was closeted with Mr. Blundell.
'What news can you give me?' said the military officer, grasping the dry-minded mate by the arm, and looking beseechingly into his face.
'There's just plenty of stores and fresh water,' answered Mr. Mulready, 'enough to last a small crew six months. Her after-hold is rich in the eating line. There are about two dozen cocks and hens.'
'I don't mean that!' exclaimed Parry wildly. 'Did you find no hint of the fate of the young lady?'
'My answer must be,' answered the mate, with a certain formal, sympathetic gravity, 'that nothing is alive on yonder vessel saving a few cocks and hens.'
The captain made his appearance, followed by Mr. Blundell.
'I have arranged with the third officer,' said he, walking straight up to Captain Parry and the mate, 'that he shall take charge of the yacht and search for the boat. There can be no hurry whilst this clock-calm lasts. Still, I dare say you'll be glad to go on board.'
'I'm mad to go on board!' answered Captain Parry.
'Get your luggage together, then, sir. Mr. Blundell will provide the schooner with a couple of pistols out of the arms' chest, and the necessary ammunition. If you fall in with the boat, remember they are eight seamen, rendered desperate by murder. You will be but seven. The possibility is faint, the chance is the smallest,' the captain muttered in a dying voice.
'I thank you for your foresight,' said Parry; and he went hastily to his cabin to pack up.