"Well, Mike," said the old man, as, shutting up his spyglass and turning round, he, for the first time, perceived him. "What's the word? You know that fellow, I suppose?"
"O, yes, sir. That's the Paramatta, bound to Auckland. I suppose it's all up with me."
"How so?" asked the old man. "Do you mean to go on board and give yourself up?"
"No, sir, not I; I shall never go unless I am carried by force; but I thought perhaps you might give me up, as it would save you the trouble and delay of landing me at New Zealand. Perhaps I did you injustice in thinking so. I hope I did, sir."
"Of course you did, Mike," said the captain, severely. "I gave you my word that I would land you, and I shall keep it. Perhaps you had better keep out of sight for the present, as I don't care to have it known that you are on board my ship, and some of the boat's crew might recognize you."
"All right, sir," replied the convict. "I'll be all snug before they get here. His crew wouldn't be likely to blow upon me any more than yours would, but old Pickering himself would sell me at sight to get the reward. He would like nothing better than to take me to Auckland. You see he isn't a regular-built seaman, sir; he's a sort of 'long shore trader."
"I see," said the old man. "Well, he won't be much the wiser for his visit to me. But here he is, close under our quarter. You wont need any instruction about hiding yourself, for you are qualified to teach me," he added, with a laugh, as Mike passed forward and vanished below the deck.
"It's very likely," said the old man, walking to the mainmast, and raising his voice for the benefit of all who might be within hearing, "that some inquiries will be made about that man who is not down by name on the ship's articles. As for myself, I don't mean to know anything about him. The rest of you, of course, are at liberty to turn informers, if you wish to. I should be sorry to think any of my men would do so, but I have no authority to dictate what subjects you shall talk about."
He had said enough; Mike's secret was perfectly safe. Pickering, the skipper of the brigantine, a "comfortable" looking Englishman, with thin side whiskers, and a general roast-beef appearance, stepped on deck and shook hands with Captain Upton.
"Ah! captain, you've got a good cut, I see."