“The chances are that it may be a desert island, and one rarely or never visited by ships. If so, perhaps we may have to live on it for years without being able to escape from it,” I observed.
“Well, no matter if that is the case,” he answered; “anything is better than living among these cut-throats.”
“I agree with you,” said I; “but what is to become of the doctor? We must not leave him behind.”
“Certainly not,” said Jerry; “we will tell him what we propose, and I daresay he will find means to follow us. If he cannot, perhaps he will propose some plan which will be better than ours.”
We talked till we talked ourselves very hungry, and were not sorry when the black cook brought us a bowl of farinha for our breakfast. We should not have objected to a slice of cold beef or a piece of fish, but we agreed that it would be wiser to take what was offered to us, and appear thankful. The doctor was asked in to breakfast with the captain. He certainly would rather not have gone, but as nothing could be gained by refusing, and something might by accepting the invitation, he went. Tom Congo, the cook, did not forget old Surley, but, when the officers were below at breakfast, brought him a mess, which he gobbled up with no little satisfaction.
Silva appeared to take no notice of us; yet we could not but believe that it was owing to his intercession our lives had been spared, and that we were not ill-treated. It will be remembered that, after the story we heard of the escape of the convicts from Juan Fernandez, serious suspicions had been entertained of his character. We had now, from finding him associated with pirates, every reason to believe that our suspicions were correct. Still, pirate as he was, all the right feelings of our nature had not been blunted in him. While on board the Triton he had always behaved well, and he now showed us that he was grateful for the kindness he had received. Such was the opinion Jerry and I formed of him.
For three or four days things went on much in the same way as at first. We had our food brought us regularly by our friend the black cook, and were allowed to walk the deck as long as we liked, and to creep into our cabin at night. Nobody interfered with us. The people who acted as officers passed us by without notice, and the seamen did not take the trouble to exchange a word with us. At last Jerry and I agreed that it was time to try and make ourselves more at home, or we should not be able to carry into execution the plan we had proposed. Surley, too, seemed to think it very dull work sitting all day long with his nose resting on our knees. How to set about ingratiating ourselves with the fellows, was the difficulty. We generally talked over our plans when the doctor was away, as he was for a considerable time every day attending to the sick. We determined first to try and win over old Tom Congo, the black cook, as he seemed disposed to be friendly with us.
“I say, cook,” exclaimed Jerry, “you give us very good food to eat, but couldn’t you add a bit of meat now and then? Surley gets some, and we, who have been accustomed all our lives to it, would like to have it now.”
“Oh, oh, you hab some of Surley’s den,” answered Tom Congo, with a grin.
“You are too kind to wish to make us eat scraps and bits,” said Jerry; “we should just like a piece of beef or pork.”