Chapter 32
"Don't know; that's the mystery on it."
"Can't you explain what the mystery is?"
"No, sir, and I never met a s.h.i.+pmate as could."
"Bother the cat! It's all rubbish, Tom."
"Yes, sir, and it bothers the man; but there it is, all the same. You ask any sailor chap, and--"
"Yes, I know, Tom; and he'll talk just as much nonsense as you."
"P'raps so, sir, but something bad allus happens to a s.h.i.+p as has a black cat aboard."
"And something always happens to a s.h.i.+p that has any cat on board. And what is more, something always happens to a s.h.i.+p that has no cat at all on board. Look at our _Seafowl_, for instance."
"Yes, sir, you may well say that," said the man sadly. "The chaps have talked about it a deal, and we all says as she's an unfortnit s.h.i.+p."
"Oh, you all think so, do you, Tom?"
"Yes, sir, we do," said the man solemnly.
"Then you may depend upon it, Tom, that there's a black cat hidden away somewhere in the hold."
"Ah! Come aboard, sir, in port, after the rats? That would account for it, sir, and 'splain it all," cried the man eagerly. "You think that's it, do you, sir?"
"No, I don't, Tom; I'm laughing at you for being such an old woman. I did give you the credit of having more sense. I'm ashamed of you."
"Thankye, sir," said the man sadly.
"You are quite welcome, Tom," said Murray, laughing; "but I suppose you can't help all these weak beliefs."
"No, sir, we can't help it, some of us," said the man simply; "it all comes of being at sea."
"There being so much salt in the water, perhaps," said Murray.
"Mebbe, sir; but I don't see what the salt could have to do with it."
"Neither do I, Tom, and if I didn't know what a good fellow you are, and what a brave sailor, I should be ready to tell you a good deal more than I shall."
"Go on, sir; I don't mind, sir. I know you mean well."
"But look here; I'm sorry to hear that your messmates think the _Seafowl_ is an unfortunate craft. But not all, I hope?"
"Yes, sir; we all think so."
"That's worse still, Tom. But you don't mean to forsake her--desert--I hope?"
"Forsake her--desert? Not me! She's unlucky, sir, and no one can't help it. Bad luck comes to every one sometimes, same as good luck does, sir. We takes it all, sir, just as it comes, just as we did over the landing t'other day--t.i.tely was the unlucky one then, and got a spear through his shoulder, while though lots of their
"That he did, Tom. It was most plucky of him, for he was a good deal hurt."
"Yes, sir--deal more than you young gents thought for. But no, sir: forsake or desert our s.h.i.+p? Not we! She's a good, well-found craft, sir, with a fine crew and fine officers. They ain't puffick, sir; but they might be a deal worse. I'm satisfied, sir."
"I believe you, Tom," said Murray, laughing, "and there is no black cat on board, for if there were some one must have seen her or him before now, and it wouldn't have made a bit of difference."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
OVERHAULING A STRANGER.
It was the very next morning just at daybreak that the lookout on the fore-top hailed the deck with the inspiriting cry that sent a thrill through all who heard, and brought the officer of the watch forward with his gla.s.s.
"Sail ho!"
A short inspection sufficed, and the news hurried the captain and Mr Anderson on deck.
"A schooner. The same rig!" exclaimed the captain, without taking his gla.s.s from his eye. "What do you make of her, Mr Anderson?"
"A schooner, sure enough, sir. The same heavy raking spars and spread of sails. It looks too good to be true, sir."
"Hah! Then you think it is the same craft?"
"Yes,--no--I daren't say, sir," replied the lieutenant; "but if it is not it's a twin vessel."
"Yes," said the captain, closing his gla.s.s with a snap. "We'll say it's the Yankee slaver, and keep to that till she proves to be something else."
Holding to that belief, every st.i.tch of canvas that could be crowded on was sent aloft, and a pleasant breeze beginning to dimple the water as the sun arose, the spirits of all on board the sloop rose as well.
Soon, however, it began to be perfectly plain that the schooner sighted paid no heed whatever to the sloop of war, but kept on her course, sailing in a way that proved her to be unusually fast and able to hold her own so well that the spirits of those on the _Seafowl_ began to sink again.
"Now we shall see what she's made of, d.i.c.k," said Murray excitedly, when a blank charge was fired.
"Made of impudence," said Roberts quietly; "but there's no doubt about her being the craft we want," he continued, "for she means to set us at defiance, and she's going to make a run for it, and you see if she doesn't escape."
"If she does," cried Murray impetuously, "I shall say it's a shame for the Government to send the captain out with such a crawler as the _Seafowl_. Why, for such a duty we ought to have the fastest sailer that could be built and rigged."
Directly after, there was another gun fired from the sloop, and the course of the shot sent skipping over the sea could be traced till it sank to rise no more, after pa.s.sing right across the schooner's bows.
The men cheered, for in answer to this threat of what the sloop would do with her next gun, the schooner was seen to glide slowly round into the wind, her great sails began to flap, when in quick time, one of the cutters was manned, with the second lieutenant in command of the well-armed crew.
Roberts had been ordered to take his place in the stern sheets, and as he descended the rope he darted a look of triumph at Murray, whose face was glum with disappointment as he turned away; and as luck had it he encountered Mr Anderson's eyes.
"Want to go, Mr Murray?" he said, smiling.
"Yes, sir, horribly," was the reply.
"Off with you, then. Be smart!"
The next minute the lad had slipped down by the stern falls to where the officer in command made room for him; the hooks were cast off, the oars dipped, and the stout ash blades were soon quivering as the men bent to their work with their short, sharp, chopping stroke which sent the boat rapidly over the waves.