Hunting the Skipper: The Cruise of the «Seafowl» Sloop. Fenn George Manville
don’t ask questions, Tom, but just tell us plainly what you think of the weather.”
“Nothing, sir; it’s too hot to think,” replied the man.
“Quite right, May,” said the other midshipman. “Don’t bother the poor fellow, Murray. Here, May, what do you fellows before the mast think about the slavers?”
“Slippery as the mud of the river banks, sir.”
“Good,” said Murray. “Well spoken, Tom. But do you think there are any about here?”
“Oh yes, sir,” said the man; “no doubt about it. They on’y want catching.”
“No, no,” cried Murray. “That’s just what they don’t want.”
“Right you are, sir; but you know what I mean.”
“I suppose so,” said Murray; “but do you chaps, when you are chewing it all over along with your quids, believe that we shall come upon any of them?”
“Oh yes, sir; but do you see, they sail in those long, low, swift schooners that can come and go where they like, while we in the Seafowl seem to be thinking about it.”
“Poor sluggish sloop of war!” said Roberts.
“Nay, nay, sir,” said the man, “begging your pardon, she’s as smart a vessel as ever I sailed in, with as fine a captain and officers, ’specially the young gentlemen.”
“Now, none of your flattering gammon, Tom.”
“Begging your pardon, gentlemen,” said the man sturdily, “that it arn’t. I says what I says, and I sticks to it, and if we only get these here blackbird catchers on the hop we’ll let ’em see what the Seafowl can do.”
“If!” said Roberts bitterly.
“Yes, sir, if. That’s it, sir, and one of these days we shall drop upon them and make them stare. We shall do it, gentlemen, you see if we shan’t.”
“That’s what we want to see, Tom,” said Murray.
“Course you do, gentlemen, and all we lads forrard are itching for it, that we are – just about half mad.”
“For prize money?” said Roberts sourly.
“Prize money, sir?” replied the man. “Why, of course, sir. It’s a Bri’sh sailor’s nature to like a bit of prize money at the end of a v’y’ge; but, begging your pardon, sir, don’t you make no mistake. There arn’t a messmate o’ mine as wouldn’t give up his prize money for the sake of overhauling a slaver and reskying a load o’ them poor black beggars. It’s horrid; that’s what it just is.”
“Quite right, May,” said Roberts.
“Thankye, sir,” said the man; “and as we was a-saying on’y last night – talking together we was as we lay out on the deck because it was too stuffycatin’ to sleep.”
“So it was, May,” said Roberts.
“Yes, sir; reg’lar stifler. Well, what we all agreed was that what we should like to do was to set the tables upside down.”
“What for?” said Murray, giving his comrade a peculiar glance from the corner of his eye.
“Why, to give the poor niggers a chance to have a pop at some of the slavers’ crews, sir, to drive ’em with the whip and make ’em work in the plantations, sir, like dumb beasts. I should like to see it, sir.”
“Well said, Tom!” cried Murray.
“Thankye, sir. But it’s slow work ketching, sir, for you see it’s their swift craft.”
“Which makes them so crafty, eh, Tom?” cried Murray.
“Yes, sir. I don’t quite understand what you mean, sir, but I suppose it’s all right, and – ”
“Sail on the lee bow!” sang out a voice from the main-top.
Chapter Two.
Bother the Fog
A minute before those words were shouted from the main-top, the low-toned conversation carried on by the two young officers, with an occasional creak or rattle from a swinging sail was all that broke the silence of the drowsy vessel; now from everywhere came the buzz of voices and the hurrying trample of feet.
“It’s just as if some one had thrust a stick into a wasp’s nest,” whispered Frank Murray to his companion, as they saw that the captain and officers had hurried up on deck to follow the two lads’ example of bringing their spy-glasses to bear upon a faintly seen sail upon the horizon, where it was plainly marked for a few minutes – long enough to be made out as a low schooner with raking masts, carrying a heavy spread of canvas, which gradually grew fainter and fainter before it died away in the silvery haze. The time was short, but quite long enough for orders to be sharply given, men to spring up aloft, and the sloop’s course to be altered, when shuddering sails began to fill out, making the Seafowl careen over lightly, and a slight foam formed on either side of the cut-water.
“That’s woke us up, Richard, my son,” said Murray.
“Yes, and it means a chance at last.”
“If.”
“Only this; we just managed to sight that schooner before she died away again in the haze.”
“Well, that gave us long enough to notice her and send the Seafowl gliding along upon her course. Isn’t that enough?”
“Not quite, old fellow.”
“Bah! What a fellow you are, Frank! You’re never satisfied,” cried Roberts. “What have you got in your head now?”
“Only this; we had long enough before the haze closed in to sight the schooner well.”
“Of course. We agreed to that.”
“Well, suppose it gave them time enough to see us?”
“Doubtful. A vessel like that is not likely to have a man aloft on the lookout.”
“There I don’t agree with you, Dick. It strikes me that they must keep a very sharp lookout on board these schooners, or else we must have overhauled one of them before now.”
“Humph!” said Roberts shortly. “Well, we shall see. According to my ideas it won’t be very long before we shall be sending a shot across that schooner’s bows, and then a boat aboard. Hurrah! Our bad luck is broken at last.”
“Doesn’t look like it,” said Murray, who had dropped all light flippancy and banter, to speak now as the eager young officer deeply interested in everything connected with his profession.
“Oh, get out!” cried Roberts. “What do you mean by your croaking? Look at the way in which our duck has spread her wings and is following in the schooner’s wake. It’s glorious, and the very air seems in our favour, for it isn’t half so hot.”
“I mean,” said Murray quietly, “that the mist is growing more dense.”
“So much in our favour.”
“Yes,” said Murray, “if the schooner’s skipper did not sight us first.”
“Oh, bother! I don’t believe he would.”
“What’s that?” said a gruff voice.
“Only this, sir,” said Roberts to the first lieutenant, who had drawn near unobserved; “only Murray croaking, sir.”
“What about, Murray?” asked the elderly officer.
“I was only saying, sir, that we shall not overhaul the schooner if her people sighted us first.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of, my lads,” said the old officer. “This haze may be very good for us, but it may be very good for them and give their skipper a chance to double and run for one or other of the wretched muddy creeks or rivers which they know by heart.