The mate spoke in the same way, and entreated the captain even in stronger language than Dr Cockle had used.
“No, no,” he answered. “Very likely they do wish to be put on shore, but we cannot lose a moment of this fine breeze. The trip won’t do them any harm, and they’ll thank me for it by-and-by.”
Jim, when he heard this, was too angry on my account to speak, but I lifted up my hands and implored the captain to have pity on my young sister, if not on me.
“Very fine, my lad,” he answered, with a laugh; “but you are not quite of so much importance as you suppose. It might delay us not only for a few hours, but for days, perhaps, and, doctor, I cannot listen to you. We’ve got a favourable breeze, and I intend to make the best use of it.”
Once more I implored and entreated that the captain would not carry us away from home. All was of no use; he would not listen either to the doctor or the mate, or us. At length, growing angry, he said he would not hear another word on the subject, and Jim and I, by the doctor’s advice, went for’ard to be out of his way. There we stood, watching with straining eyes the shore, past which we were running, and at length the Land’s End came in sight.
“Cheer up, my lads,” said our kind friend, who came for’ard to us. “The wind may change, and we may be driven back, or we may be able to put you on board some homeward-bound ship. Cheer up! Cheer up!”
The land, as I stood gazing at it, rapidly sank below the horizon. I strained my eyes—the last faint line had disappeared. I could have cried, but my grief was too bitter for tears. Not that I cared for being carried away on my own account, but I thought of the sorrow my kind relatives in Shetland would feel—Mr Trail and his daughter, and dear little Maggie, and more than all how Mary would feel as she waited day after day for the arrival of the brig which was never to appear, and then, when all hope was gone, how she would mourn for us, and Nancy also would, I knew, share her feelings.
If I could have sent but a line to my sister to tell her I was safe, though I might be long absent, it would not have so much mattered. Mr Gray would take very good care of her, and she would have written to Mr Troil to explain what had happened; but as it was I could scarcely bear it.
“The doctor told us to cheer up, and that’s what I say to you, Peter,” cried Jim, trying to console me. “Maybe we shall fall in with a homeward-bound ship after all, though I don’t think there’s much chance of our seeing the shores of old England again for a long time to come if we don’t, as it looks as if the wind would hold in its present quarter till we are well out in the Atlantic.”
Jim was right. With yards squared and every stitch of canvas the ship could carry, we bowled along at a rate which soon left our native land far astern.