Meantime Gerald, who was disposed under all circumstances to make himself happy, thought the Champion’s employment very good fun, notwithstanding the grumblings of old Beater and Crowhurst, who were from morning till night abusing the slow-sailing “sugar-hogsheads,” as they designated the merchant craft. He was only a little disappointed at having no opportunity of paying his friend a visit on board the Ouzel Galley—a feeling probably shared with him by the second lieutenant. The Champion had been compelled to dispose of most of the pressed men between the two frigates, retaining only a few to make up her own complement. Among them was the man captured in the Dublin lodging-house, who had entered under the name of Michael Dillon. When Gerald came to see him oftener, the supposed likeness to Carnegan wore off, though still there was a wonderful similarity in the voice and manner. Dillon soon showed himself to be a bold and active seaman, and thereby gained the good opinion of the officers, though his behaviour was generally surly, especially towards the English portion of the crew. He took pains however, to ingratiate himself with the Irishmen, by being always ready to do a good turn to any of them, very frequently even sharing his grog with them—the highest mark of regard one seaman can show to another. Gerald, who naturally observed the man, fancied that he looked at him with a suspicious eye, and was inclined to keep out of his way; but at the same time he treated him, as he did the other midshipmen, with the required amount of respect, though certainly not with a particle more.
“You see, Tracy, I told you that Dillon and the rest of the pressed men would soon be brought into order by the discipline of a man-of-war,” observed Mr Foley one day to Gerald, who was in his watch. “Blustering fellows, such as he appeared, become in a few weeks perfectly lamb-like.”
“I wouldn’t trust him overmuch, sir, nevertheless,” answered Gerald. “From a remark the carpenter made to me the other day, he has formed no favourable opinion of him. He has several times found him talking in a low voice to the men, as if he had some especial object in view, and Mr O’Rourke thinks that, if he had an opportunity of doing mischief, he would do it.”
“I am not fond of hearing unfavourable reports of the men, and I recommend you not to indulge in the habit of making them, unless officially required so to do,” said the lieutenant, rather annoyed at Gerald’s remarks.
“I had no intention of bringing them to you, sir,” answered Gerald; “but when you spoke of Dillon, I felt myself called on to say what I had heard, especially as I have had suspicions of the man from the first. I indeed believed him to be a person we had on board the Ouzel Galley, and who, it was afterwards discovered, had been guilty of an act of piracy and murder.”
“But if he is not the man you took him for, you should overcome your prejudice,” remarked the lieutenant.
“I try to do so, sir,” said Gerald, “and I should have thought no more about him if I hadn’t heard remarks which aroused my former suspicions.”
“I believe you are right, after all, Tracy,” said Mr Foley; “we’ll keep an eye on the man, and not place him in a position where he can do any harm.”
This conversation took place when the convoy was about four or five days’ sail from the West Indies.
“The commodore is signalling, sir,” cried young Lord Mountstephen, who was acting as signal midshipman, “‘A sail to the southward!—the Champion to chase and ascertain her character.’”