“Silence, men,” said Mr Harvey; “we must not let the people on board the brig find out that we are watching them. They’ll probably take us for a guard-boat, but if they hear our English voices, they’ll know who we are.”
We kept under the shade of one of the neighbouring vessels. All was quiet on board the brig. There were no signs of her being about to trip her anchor. I wondered whether Dubois had put Hoolan and the rest in irons when he discovered how they had behaved. I could scarcely suppose that they would have contrived to seize him and his boat’s crew when they returned on board; yet such was possible, and would have been retributive justice on him for having taken the brig from us. Still I should have been very sorry indeed to hear that he and La Touche had met with any injury.
We waited and waited, till it appeared that we were not likely to wait to any purpose.
At last Larry, who seemed to have forgotten the order he had received to keep silence, suddenly exclaimed—
“Couldn’t we go aboard just to axe the Frenchmen to give me back my fiddle. That wouldn’t be agen’ the law of nations, would it, Mr Terence?”
“Silence there,” said Mr Harvey, scarcely able to restrain his laughter. “I ordered you men not to speak.”
“Shure I forgot the same,” said Larry in a suppressed tone. “Och! my fiddle, my fiddle! what will I be after doing without it!”
At length daylight dawned; and according to the orders Mr Harvey had received, we returned on board. As the sun rose, a light breeze began to play over the surface of the harbour. A look-out was sent aloft to keep watch on the brig, while every preparation was made for heaving up the anchor and making sail, should she be seen to get under weigh.
Dubois, knowing that Larry and I had gone aboard the frigate, must have been aware that the captain was acquainted with the character of his vessel, and also that she was carrying despatches. He would certainly, I thought, suppose that we should follow him, should he put to sea. I therefore scarcely fancied that he would venture out of the harbour during daylight, but fully expected that he would wait another night, on the chance of there being a breeze during the time to enable him to get away. I was therefore greatly surprised when the look-out hailed—
“The brig is loosing her topsails, and heaving up her anchor.”