“With all except Grampus; but I don’t think he has made much way with them. The old man, I fancy, sir, guesses what he’s after, and has his eye on him,” answered Tom.
“All right, then, my lad. Keep your eyes about you, and let me know any thing you observe, but don’t allow the skipper to find out that we suspect him.”
Tom promised to follow my directions, and I sent him on deck while I turned out and dressed. I treated Mr Scuttle just as if he were not plotting against me, for forewarned, I felt myself fore-armed, and had no fear that he could do me any harm.
That day the wind fell considerably and we again had fair weather. The next morning, while I was at breakfast, old Nol hailed down the sky-light—
“Would you just come on deck for a moment, sir?” said he.
“What is it?” I asked.
“There’s a sail away to the south-west, and I don’t quite like the looks of her,” answered the old man.
I jumped on deck in a moment. I was not long in making out a brig under all sail holding the same course we were on. As I took the glass from my eye I found Scuttle standing by my side.
“What do you think of her?” I asked.
“Maybe she’s a whaler, or maybe a sealer, or a merchantman from one of the provincial ports, or maybe a transport with British red-coats aboard; but, Mr Hurry, it requires a man with a longer sight than I’ve got to tell just now what she is,” said the skipper, in the long drawling tone of a New Englander.