“Oh, we’ll send one, then,” replied the speaker.
During this time the big schooner was hove-to quite close to us. Presently some of the crew went aft, and a long gig was lowered from the schooner’s quarter, and a set of as ugly-looking ruffians as I ever cast eyes on got into her, and pulled towards us. From the specimen we had witnessed of their conduct, we could only expect to be cut down and thrown overboard as soon as they stepped on deck. The least unattractive was a man, apparently an officer, who sat in the stern-sheets. As he got near I could not help examining his countenance. He was a mulatto, with handsome, regular features. I felt certain that I had seen him before, and not long ago. He had on his head a large broad-brimmed straw hat, a gaily-coloured handkerchief, and a waistcoat of red silk, while his jacket was of the finest material. He wore a sash round his waist, and a dagger and a brace of silver-mounted pistols stuck into it. When he came alongside, he sprang lightly on to the deck of the schooner, and looked about him.
“Now, my lads, be prepared; show no fear,” said the doctor. “Remember that the worst they can do is to kill us, and they’ll gain nothing by that; so perhaps they will let us live.”
As we made not the slightest attempt at resistance, which would have been madness, even the pirates had no excuse for injuring us. All we did was to stand quietly at the after-part of the deck waiting what was next going to happen.
One of the other pirates soon proceeded without ceremony into the cabin, and the rest went forward down the fore-hatch.
The officer looked at me, and I looked at him. Old Surley, who at first had been very much inclined to fly at the strangers, growling fiercely, went up to him and quietly licked his hand. In spite of his clean-shaven face, his gay clothes, and well filled-out cheeks, I immediately recognised him as Manuel Silva, as he called himself—the man whom we had with so much risk saved from the wreck of the Spanish brig. “Yes, I remember you,” he whispered in his broken English; “but don’t let others know that. I’m not a man to forget kindness, that’s all.”
“Do you know anything of Mr Brand and the other men?” I asked eagerly. He made no reply; and immediately afterwards, assuming an air of authority, he ordered the doctor, Jerry, and me, to get into the boat.
The doctor entreated that he might be left to attend the two wounded Sandwich islanders. The men, when they came on deck, laughed at his request. “We have got wounded too, and shall want you to attend on them,” they answered; “if you are a doctor, you are welcome.” Still the doctor pleaded so hard for the poor men that at last they consented to take one of them; the other, indeed, was already beyond all hopes of recovery. We turned a last look at the body of poor Captain Stone.
“What is to be done with him?” asked Jerry.
“Never mind him, youngster,” answered one of the men; “we’ll soon dispose of him.”