“You forget, Mr O’Grady, that he could not have got his crutches without our help,” observed Paul.
“The wind may moderate, and we may yet be away before daylight,” remarked Devereux. “We could not leave him behind.”
The question had not, however, been put to the black; indeed it was difficult to ascertain his wishes. He kept his seat, and made no sign. This made them hope that he still expected to get out of the lagoon before daylight. It was possible that the pirates might take to drinking again as soon as they awoke; and if so, more time would be obtained for their escape. These and similar speculations served to occupy the thoughts of the party as the dark hours of night passed by. Still the wind blew, and the seas, as they dashed over the coral reefs and broke on the sandy beach, roared as loud as before. The black made no sign of moving; indeed they all knew it would be useless. At length, with sinking hearts, they saw the first pale streaks of dawn appear. There is but little twilight in those southern latitudes; but the first harbinger of day is speedily followed by the glorious luminary himself, and the whole world is bathed with light.
“I wonder if it’s pleasant,” soliloquised O’Grady. “I don’t know whether I should prefer being hung or having my throat cut.”
“Hush,” said Devereux, “see the black is signing to you not to speak.”
“Nor will I, blessings on his honest face,” answered O’Grady, whose spirits nothing could daunt. “But I propose that before we put our necks into the noose we have our breakfast. We shall have ample time for that before those honest gentlemen we left drunk last night will be up and looking for us.”
The proposition met with universal approval, and in another instant all hands were busily employed in discussing a substantial breakfast of biscuit, dried meat, and fish, washed down by claret in as quiet a manner as if they were out on a pleasant picnic party. When it was over, some of the party scrambled up the rocks to ascertain if any of the pirates were yet on foot; but no one was to be seen moving on shore. It was possible that the pirates might suppose that they had already made their escape, and thus not take the trouble of looking for them. It was clearly their best chance to remain quiet, and so they all returned on board and lay down in the bottom of the boat. The day, as the night had done, passed slowly on. Their hopes again rose; they might remain concealed till night, and then make their escape, should the gale abate.
“We have reason to be thankful that we are not outside now,” observed old Croxton, who had said little all the time; “no boat could live in the sea there is running.”
“If we are discovered we may still fight for it,” observed Reuben Cole. “We are a match for a few score of such buccaneering scoundrels as they are, I hope.”
“I will play them one tune on my cher violin; they will not hang us if they hear that going,” said Alphonse, evidently perfectly in earnest.