I agreed with William; at the same time the idea of capturing the place was very attractive. If we should make the attempt and succeed, however, we should find liquor there, and the seamen would certainly get drunk and mutinous. No object would be gained, either, unless we could immediately send a vessel to sea, to give notice at the Mauritius of our success and obtain assistance. Discussions on these points occupied us till daylight, when we recommenced our journey to the tents. The news we brought was so far satisfactory to our companions, that we were not likely to be starved to death, and as peace would come some day or other, we might then hope to make our escape. No one, however, seemed at all desirous of attacking the French settlement; the risk was considerable, the gain problematical. It was finally agreed that we should remain quiet where we were, and only in case of extremity make ourselves known to our foreign neighbours. The more energetic of the party became, as may be supposed, very impatient of the inactive life we were compelled to lead. We could do little else than fish all day, and make expeditions in search of water. In this we were at last successful; the spring was more than a mile away, and it became a question whether we should move our camp there, the objection to our so doing being that it was so much nearer the French settlement. The next morning, on going near the spot where the captain and his companions had erected their tent, I saw no one moving. I called to them. There was no reply. I went to the tent. It was empty! It was supposed that they had gone to the newly-discovered spring, but those who had gone to bring water from it told us that they were not there. While we were wondering what had become of the men, as William happened to be sweeping the horizon with his telescope, he cried out that he saw a sail in the offing. In a short time afterwards another was descried, her topsails gradually rising out of the water. She was pronounced to be larger than the first which had appeared.
“It is that scoundrel La Roche again!” exclaimed O’Carroll, after eyeing the nearest stranger for some time. “I knew that it would not be long before he would be back again, and there he comes with a big prize, depend on it.”
“But suppose, instead of the big ship being his prize, he has been captured by one of our cruisers, and has been sent in first to show the way?” I suggested.
“No, no, the headmost craft is the Mignonne, and the big one is an Indiaman, her prize, depend on that,” said O’Carroll.
There seemed every probability that he was right, but this did not increase our satisfaction. The only thing that could be said was that we should now have companions in our misfortune. As may be supposed, however, we watched the approach of the two ships with the greatest interest, feeling assured that in some way or other they would have a considerable influence on our fate.
Chapter Ten.
An anxious Time.
Our anxiety to ascertain the fate of those on board the ship which the Mignonne had brought in as a prize induced me, with my brother William and Trundle, to make another expedition to the French settlement. We ventured much nearer during daylight than we had done the first time, as we were certain that the people would be watching the arrival of the privateer and her prize. We were able, indeed, to reach a spot overlooking the harbour, where, among some thick bushes, we concealed ourselves before the ships came to an anchor. William had brought his telescope, and we could almost see the countenances of the people on the decks of the ships. The large one was, we saw at once, an Indiaman outward bound. We knew that by the number of young men and the young ladies on board, and their clear ruddy complexions. Had she been homeward bound, there would be old yellow-faced generals and judges, black nurses, sickly ladies, and little children.