From what the mate had said, our captain was eager to have a talk with the new-comer, Jonas Webb by name. The latter said he had gone out many years before in a South Sea whaler, and when on her homeward voyage he had exchanged into the ship he had just left, then outward-bound. Both ships had been very successful in fishing and making prizes, and he had saved a great deal of money. Not content with what he had got, he wished to make more. He had been all along the coast, and knew every port. Among other pieces of information, he told the captain that two South Sea whalers, captured by the Spaniards, lay in the Bay of Conception, and advised that they should be cut out, declaring that it might easily be done, as the harbour was unguarded by forts. I don’t think Captain Podgers was fond of fighting, but he was of money, and he believed that by getting hold of these two ships, he should make more than by catching a score of whales.
After this, both fore and aft, the only talk was about the proposed undertaking. Miss Kitty looked very grave, but though she knew the captain would take very good care to remain safe on board, she guessed that Edward Falconer would be sent on the expedition; and, though he made light of it, he had observed that Jonas Webb was wrong with regard to the place being unfortified. Captain Podgers had got angry, and declared that the man, an experienced old sailor, who had just come from thence, must know more than a young fellow, as he was, could do. Mrs Podgers, with a sneer, also remarked that perhaps he would rather not have any fighting, lest he might get a cut across his face, and spoil his beauty, or the smell of gunpowder would make him faint.
I am sure that the third mate was as brave as steel, and did not think a bit about his good looks; but the sting, somehow or other, struck deeper than most of her venomed darts.
Hoisting American colours, we stood in towards an island off the Bay of Conception. Here heaving to, as night closed in, four of the boats were manned under charge of the three mates and the boatswain. Jonas Webb and Dick went in Mr Falconer’s boat.
Those who remained on board anxiously watched for their return, expecting, as the night was light, to see them towing out their prizes.
Some hours passed by, when the rattle of musketry and the boom of great guns came over the calm waters.
“Why, that fellow Webb mast have deceived me!” exclaimed the captain, stamping about the deck in a state of agitation. “Falconer was right. There will be more glory, as he will call it, than profit in the expedition. Bah! I cannot afford to lose men.”
Eager eyes were looking out for the expected ships. They did not appear, but at last first one boat and then another was seen emerging from the gloom.
“Well, gentlemen, what has become of the whalers?” exclaimed the captain, as the two first mates stepped on deck.
“The Spaniards peppered us too hotly to enable us to tow them out, sir, and the wind afforded no help,” was the answer. “I am afraid Mr Falconer’s boat, too, has got into a mess—he had taken one of the whalers, but would not leave his prize, though I suspect several of his men were killed or wounded.”