For some time the schooner enjoyed fine weather, and everybody on board was happy and contented, imitating the temper of the lieutenant, who was especially so.
Bill, under Jack Windy’s instruction, perfected himself in his hornpipe, and Jack declared, and even old Grim growled out an assent, that there were not many lads of his age who could beat him. The wind was very light, so that, after having parted from the corvette some four or five days, they had made but little way. Bill, of course, had a very slight idea all the time where they were, for charts and maps were not common between-decks. They had been on board the schooner some ten days or more, when the weather began to cloud over, and just the same appearance came on which Bill remembered before the hurricane they had met with on their passage from England.
“What do you think of it?” he asked of old Grim.
“Why, if Mr Collinson don’t look out bright, we shall have the masts out of the ship, that’s all,” answered Grim.
Mr Collinson was, however, looking out bright, and soon summoned on deck by the mate who had charge, he gave orders to furl all sail, except a close-reefed fore-topsail. There was not a breath of wind. The sea was like a looking-glass, the heat was intense.
“No doubt it’s old ‘Harry Cane,’ come to pay us a visit, as he’s not got the change out of us yet,” growled old Grim.
The lieutenant and his two young officers walked the deck, looking somewhat anxiously.
“There are some ugly rocks and banks clustering pretty thickly about here,” he observed to one of them, “and if we have to run on in the dark, Providence alone can take us clear of them.”
“I would rather trust to Providence than to our own wisdom or skill,” thought Bill. “He who took care of us before will take care of us now.”
Some time passed, and still the calm continued. Even Mr Collinson began to think that, after all, the hurricane was not coming.