“We shall not find fault, provided that the cook supplies us with the best he can,” answered Rayner. “One of our men there,”—pointing to Jack Peek—“will give him the materials, unless he happens to have some ducks or fowls, or a fine fish, for which we will pay him.”
The steward shrugged his shoulders, regretting that the only fish he had on board were salted; but, notwithstanding, the cook would exercise his skill upon them, and would produce a dish which even an epicure would not disdain.
While waiting for the evening meal, the young officers walked the deck, whistling for a breeze, but there seemed no chance of its coming. The land lay blue, but still indistinct, away to the northward, its outline varied by hills of picturesque form, which rose here and there along the coast.
Rayner called up Jack Peek, and told him to keep a watch not only on the black crew, but on the Frenchmen. “Notwithstanding the kind way they have been treated, they may think it a fine opportunity for obtaining a vessel in which they can carry on their former calling,” he observed.
“They’ll be audaciously ungrateful wretches if they do, sir,” answered Jack. “To my mind they’ll deserve to be hove overboard to feed one of those sharks out there;” and he pointed to a black fin which was gliding just above the surface.
“I hope that they will not prove treacherous, and it is our business to take care that they have no opportunity of being so,” said Rayner. “Do you and Tom keep an eye upon them, that’s all.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” answered Jack.
The English seamen kept together. Though there were but four of them, they were sturdy fellows, well armed, and it was not likely that either the blacks or Frenchmen would venture to attack them.
At length the mulatto steward announced supper ready, and Rayner and Oliver descended to partake of it, leaving Tom in charge of the deck.
“Call me if you see the slightest sign of a breeze,” said the former, as he went below.