Mr Henley undertook first to speak to Dr Cuff. The doctor, however, made very light of his suspicions.
“Very careless steering, I have no doubt, and we have got closer to the coast of Africa than may be altogether pleasant. No wonder at that. Then the lad dreamed he heard the sailors plotting mutiny—that is not surprising; they are not attractive looking fellows. Then it is not unusual for a set of old salts to attempt to play off a trick on a young midshipman who holds himself somewhat a cut above the common run. No fear. All will come right at last; just do you keep the ship to the westward for the present, and then get into Table Bay as fast as you can. We shall have to put our noble skipper into the sick-lists there, or I am very much mistaken.”
Such was the reply the doctor made to all Mr Henley told him. His opinion had great weight with all the other gentlemen, though Mr Vernon did not altogether discredit my account. The result, however, of the affair was, that no especial steps were taken to counteract the schemes of the mutineers, if such schemes were still entertained by them. All Mr Henley and I could do, therefore, was to keep a watchful eye on the movements of the suspected men.
Two days after this we lay becalmed on the smooth shining ocean with all our sails flapping against the masts, when just after daybreak a vessel was made out to the eastward, and with a fair though light breeze standing towards us. As she drew near, carrying the wind along with her, we made her out to be a large black brig, probably, from her appearance, it was supposed, a man-of-war. She was still at some distance when the passengers came on deck to take their usual walk before breakfast. Of course she excited no small amount of interest, and many opinions were passed as to her character, and to what nation she belonged. Whatever she was, it was pretty evident that she intended to come and speak us. I asked Spratt if he thought she was an English man-of-war.
“Not she,” was his answer. “That spread of white canvas cloth is of Brazilian cotton stuff. To my mind she has a wicked, unsatisfactory look I don’t like. There’s no good about her, depend on that, Mr Marsden.”
I found, on going aft, that the captain and mates entertained the same opinion of the stranger which Spratt had expressed.
“What can he want with us?” was the question asked by several.
“Perhaps only to know his longitude,” observed the captain. “By the cut of his sails he looks like a slaver, and, from his size, he is not likely to be one to knock under to any man-of-war’s boats he might fall in with.”
“But suppose he should be a pirate,” observed some one.
“A pirate! Oh, there are no pirates now-a-days who would dare to attack a big ship like this,” answered the captain, laughing. “In the Indian seas or the China coast there are fellows who would come on board and cut our throats if they could catch us all asleep; but such a thing never happens about here now.”