The ship had now been brought round; the head-yards were squared, and the course laid for Waterford. Still there was a great deal to be done; it was necessary to secure the prisoners, so that there might be no risk of their rising. Jacques Busson was a powerful and determined fellow, and he would to a certainty, if he had the opportunity, get free and try to set his countrymen at liberty. The lieutenant also, though addicted to sleeping soundly, was likely to be wide enough awake for the future, and would in all probability try to regain possession of the ship. He was therefore requested to confine himself to his cabin.
“I am sorry to treat you so inhospitably,” said Captain Tracy, “but necessity compels me, and I hope that it will be but for a short time. I must warn you, however, if you attempt to break out, that we shall be obliged to secure you as we have done your men; but to save you from temptation, we shall secure your cabin door on the outside in a way which will prevent you from doing so. If, however, you will give me your promise not to attempt to regain your liberty, you will be treated with no further rigour.”
“I must make a virtue of necessity,” answered the lieutenant; “it is a very disagreeable one, but I submit.” And without more ado he threw off his coat and quietly turned into his cot.
“Don’t trust him, Gerald, whatever he may say,” whispered Captain Tracy, “till we have the door firmly secured.”
“Ay, ay, father,” answered Gerald; “if he shows his face at the door without leave, I’ll make him draw it back again pretty quickly.”
Pompey had been left to watch over Jacques Busson and the man who had been serving at the wheel. He had no pistol, but instead he held in his hand a sharp, long-bladed sheath-knife, which effectually kept the prisoners from stirring. He evidently took especial delight in his office, and reluctantly consented to drag Jacques Busson into a cabin, where it was arranged that he should be confined, but at the same time with his arms and legs firmly secured. The rest of the men were carried down into the forecastle, and were placed in their bunks, the captain having examined each of them to be certain that they were lashed in a way from which they could not liberate themselves.
Morning dawned soon after these arrangements had been made. Jacques Busson grumbled greatly at the treatment he had received.
“What for you make all dis fuss?” said Pompey, who was standing sentry over him. “You want to take us into French port—we take you into Irish port. Waterford berry nice place, and when we get dere we take you out of limbo, and you live like one gentleman.”
“Sacré!” answered the Frenchman, who had only caught a word or two of what Pompey had said, “if we fall in with a French ship before we get there, I’ll pay you off, mon garçon, for nearly strangling me with your greasy arms.”
Pompey only grinned a reply. There was no use wasting words, considering that neither understood the other’s language. The lieutenant took matters more philosophically than his inferior. He was, however, not to be trusted, and either Gerald or Dan kept watch at his door with a loaded pistol. The arms and legs of the other men were too securely lashed to afford much risk of their getting loose; still, a trusty man was stationed over them, as there was no doubt that they would make the attempt could they gain the opportunity, and if one could cast off his lashings he might speedily set the others at liberty.