Just after the first streaks of dawn had appeared above the horizon, Desmond caught sight of a number of boats collected up the harbour. They appeared to be pulling towards the brigantine, but as the wind was against them, and the current was setting in, they made but slow progress. Desmond awoke Snatchblock, who had fallen asleep, and told him what he had seen.
“Maybe the same fellows as before are coming to pay us a visit,” he answered. “If they are we will treat them the same as the last time.”
“Don’t call Mr Adair, he wants rest, and there will be time enough when the boats get nearer.” Ben, however, got up to have a lookout, and then called the rest of the crew. He found Pedro still asleep in the caboose with the soup boiling over; he asked him what he would wish to do.
“Get the soup ready first,” said Pedro. “Then you lash me up as before, I no wish fight.”
The soup being ready, Desmond called Adair, who, as well as his crew, found it very welcome.
“I doubt much whether those fellows will venture to attack us, though it’s as well to be prepared,” he observed. “If they do, though there may be twice as many as at first, we must beat them off.”
Adair and the rest had been so engaged in watching the approaching boats, that no one thought of looking eastward with the exception of Desmond.
“There is a sail in the offing, and she is standing in for the harbour, as far as I can make out,” he exclaimed, as he held the glass still raised through which he had been looking. Adair took it from him, and eagerly watched the approaching vessel.
“You are right, my boy,” he answered. “She seems to me a brig about the size of the Supplejack, but we shall make her out more clearly in a short time; if she is a friend those slaving rascals will not dare to attack us.”
“But she may be a slaver herself, and then she will assist them,” whispered Desmond.