The skipper, muttering a furious oath, without another word retired to his cabin, and presently re-appeared with a pistol in his hand, and another sticking out of his pocket.
Tom fixed his eye calmly upon him. “We do not fear your threats, Captain Stubbins,” he said. “If you were to kill one of us, you would be guilty of murder, and would be hung to a certainty. Let me advise you, then, to take those pistols back to your cabin. We have no wish to insult you or to dispute your authority. Our messmate, who was the cause of the black’s falling against you, is ready to apologise: I hope that will satisfy you.”
“Really, Captain Stubbins, I am very sorry for what has happened,” exclaimed Billy; “and I am sure the shark would be if he could speak, for he, after all, was the cause of your misfortune. Had he not given so unexpected a plunge, I should not have tumbled down nor knocked over Peter, and Peter would not have knocked over you. I promise you it shall not occur again, for I’ll keep clear of him until we have a few delicately browned slices placed on the table. I never ate shark, but I’ll undertake that it shall be better than the salt beef we have on board.”
By the time Billy had finished his apology the skipper’s anger had somewhat cooled down, but he still walked the deck with a pistol in his hand, and Tom and Desmond kept an eye upon him lest he should all of a sudden take it into his head to fire at one of them. At last, greatly to their satisfaction, he went below, and replaced the pistols in his berth.
Several other fish were caught after this, so that the midshipmen were not reduced to eat the shark. On cutting it open, poor Toby was discovered within, and served as a bonne bouche to the crew, the midshipmen contenting themselves with the fish.
As long as the calm lasted, and fish could be obtained, the passengers and crew of the Fox did not fare ill; but as the midshipmen were anxious to get over a disagreeable passage and rejoin their ship, they would gladly have gone on short commons and made a quick passage. The water every day became worse and diminished in quantity, and they had serious apprehensions of what might be the result.
“If we could manage to construct such a still as our friend the American doctor formed on the sand-bank, we might obtain fresh water,” observed Tom.
“I’m sure I don’t know exactly how it was done,” answered Desmond, “but I remember the principle, and feel pretty sure that I could manage it if any one on board understands blacksmith’s work. Steam we can produce fast enough from the largest tea-kettle on board; the chief difficulty will be the condenser.”
When, however, Tom mentioned his idea to Captain Stubbins, the skipper laughed at him, and declared that he could not do it if he tried, as there was no blacksmith on board. A breeze springing up made it less necessary for Tom to try his experiment, and the skipper asserted that the water would hold out until they could get into Sydney. He was, however, all this time keeping much further to the eastward than was necessary. Tom and Desmond agreed that he was not aware how far off he was from land, though he would find out his mistake when he came to haul to the westward.
“Well, I do wish this voyage was over,” exclaimed poor Billy, on whom the hard fare was beginning to tell, though he had wonderfully withstood the long journey across the country. “I shall be losing the number of my mess if this horrid brig doesn’t make better way than she has hitherto been doing.”