He went without further words. I could hear him chuckling as he went. Mr. Brown stood looking after him; then he moved slowly aft, while I mused upon what I had heard. It did not take long for me to put two and two together. Smith, or whatever his name was, must have been with Mr. Brown in Batavia on that night when he got those scars I had seen; it was not so very unlikely that he was the man who had inflicted them. They had recognized each other, but Mr. Brown chose not to admit it. If I was right, there was the basis for a pretty quarrel, but such quarrels are not pretty when they are on your own ship. I did not like to think of it and of what might come of it.
CHAPTER XXV
Our liberty men appeared in various stages of dejection from their Oriental haunts of infamy, but none were missing, and we sailed for the eastward, to cruise about the Seychelles. Smith had been assigned to Mr. Brown’s boat, to take my oar, for I was nothing but a substitute. I was chagrined, but there was nothing to be done about it. Mr. Brown was sorry, but again there was nothing to be done about it. He could not object unless he wanted to open the matter which he had resolutely kept closed—to everybody but me, as I believed—and Smith was a thorough seaman, as far as there had been opportunity to tell. He started out, in fact, as a model, his only fault being that he was a little too much of a gentleman for the forecastle. The men were suspicious of him, and held off at first. Mr. Baker was suspicious of him too. He said it was too good to be true; that a man with his history behind him for the past ten years—he was convinced of the truth of his inferences in that matter—would be as good as that only if he was up to some trick. Smith was a man to watch, and he proposed to keep his eye on him.
I tried to sound Mr. Brown on the subject of Smith, but met with no success. He turned his quiet smile upon me. “He ’s a pretty good shot with a knife,” he said, “is n’t he, Tim? It must have taken a great deal of practice. And he seems to be a quiet sort of man, and a good sailor. We have n’t lowered yet, but I ’ve no’ doubt that he ’ll prove as good in the boat.”
He did. We got no whales on the Seychelles grounds, but we saw several, and Mr. Brown’s boat was down nearly every time. Smith pulled an oar in perfect form, and he pulled a strong oar, rather to everybody’s surprise, for he was very thin, and did not seem muscular. I suppose he was wiry, and I knew that he was not burdened with any kind of tissue that he did not need. He was pleasant to everybody, respectful to the officers, and he did not seem surly and disgruntled at having to pull for hours after a whale which finally got away. He soon won the confidence of the men. The confidence of the officers was not so easy. Mr. Brown could feel no confidence, I was sure, and I was almost equally sure of Mr. Baker. Mr. Snow was surly and irritable, and getting worse. He was on bad terms with his crew, and seemed determined to haze Silver, who had been subjected to that process ever since leaving Cape Town.
I was sorry for Silver, but I could do nothing. None of the men could do anything for him. Captain Nelson could have stopped it, but he did not, for some reason or other. Silver was getting more and more desperate and morose, and was looking for a chance to get away. The Seychelles might have offered him a chance, but we did not enter a port there, nor send a boat ashore. Even if his boat had gone ashore his chance of escaping would have been slim, for Mr. Snow was aware that Silver would desert if he got a chance, and would have kept an eye on him. For that matter, none of Mr. Snow’s crew were to be trusted now, with the exception of Miller, the boatsteerer. All the officers and all the men knew that, and Mr. Snow’s boat would have been the last one chosen to go ashore.
We were often within sight of land, about eight or ten miles from it. One day, after a morning of light and variable airs, and an afternoon of flat calm, the ship had drifted in until darkness found us not more than four miles from shore. I think the officers were a little worried about it. An anchor was got ready, and chain overhauled, but the anchor was not put over. It was a hot night, the only really hot night we had in that neighborhood; moonless, with light clouds overspreading the sky. Practically the whole crew were on deck throughout the evening. They made rather a crowd about the fore part of the ship, from knightheads to try-works. I was aware of a subtle stir among them, and I drifted forward to see what it meant, or whether it meant anything. Mr. Macy passed me, probably on the same errand; but he could find nothing, and after a turn about the windlass, he passed me again, on his way back. I sat down by the windlass, and pretty soon I heard a hoarse whisper.
“ ’D he get away clear?”
“Ye’ ,” another voice replied in a low growl, “all clear. Hope the sharks don’t get him. Water ’s swarmin’ with ’em. Tried to persuade him to wait, but he would n’t. Said they might ’s well ’s that fourth mate. He ’s to light a fire if he gets ashore—matches sealed up with grease in a tin. We ’re to watch for it.”
“How soon?”