Chapter Twelve.
The master of the Fox—Bargain for a passage—Trading with the natives—Farewell to friends—The skipper’s rascally trick—The Fox with the midshipmen on board at sea—Bad fare—Fishing—A shark captured, and the skipper knocked over—Short of water—The Fox struck by a squall—Capsized—The midshipmen hold on to the side of the brig—In a desperate condition—A sail—Taken off by a boat from the Empress—Fox founders—Welcomed on board—Sydney reached—A pleasant visit on shore—Bound for New Zealand.
While the midshipmen were standing on the shore of the harbour a boat put off from the brig, and came towards them. She was pulled by four hands, two of whom were blacks and two Malays. A stout white man, in a broad-brimmed straw hat, evidently the skipper, sat in the stern sheets. On landing, the latter, looking hard at them, and surveying their travel-stained, tattered uniforms, inquired—
“Where in the world do you come from?”
“From the other side of New Guinea,” answered Tom. He briefly narrated their adventures. “We want to get on to Sydney, where we expect to find our ship. Can you take us there?” he added.
“That depends on circumstances,” answered the skipper. “Can you pay for your passage?”
“We can work it, at all events, and I have no doubt that our captain will pay any sum we agree to,” said Tom.
Tom did not like either the manner or appearance of the skipper. Of course he did not express his opinion, either by words or looks.
“Are you bound for Sydney?” inquired Tom; “for, if so, we may come to terms.”
“As to that, I should not mind putting in there, provided you will pay the expenses. I was thinking of going further south, but I have not quite made up my mind,” was the answer. “The Fox is a fine craft, and you will not have another chance of getting to Sydney, or to any other English port for many months to come. Few British traders touch here.”