The officer who had charge of the vessel now came on deck, and looked
round him: he could speak English sufficient to carry on a conversation.
The weather was very thick, and the rain drove down with the wind: he
saw that it was impossible that the ship could be moved. He told us that
we should have a hundred guineas each and our liberty if we took the
ship safe either to Ostend or any French port. We replied that we should
be very glad to do so, as it would be ten times as much as we should
have received for piloting her up the Thames; and then we went down
below. In the meantime the men were sent for on deck, divided into
watches, and when the watch was set the others went down below again.
After taking a glass or two of wine, for the Frenchmen had soon rummaged
out what there was to be drunk in the cabin, Bramble and I returned on
deck. We found the Frenchmen in charge of the watch diligent: one was
looking out forward, another at the taffrail; the remaining three were
walking the deck. Bramble went to the gangway, and I followed him.
"Tom, I see the hatchway grating is on deck--I only wish we once had
them all beneath it."
"I only wish we had all but the watch--I'd have a try for it then,"
replied I.
"No, no, Tom, that wouldn't do; but we must trust to Providence and a
sharp lookout. See where you can put your hand upon a crowbar or
handspike, in case you want it; but don't touch it. Come, there's
nothing to be done in any way just now, so let's go down and take a
snooze for an hour or two; and, Tom, if they ask us to drink, drink with
them, and pretend to be half fuddled."
We went down again, and found the privateer's men getting very jolly;
but they did not offer us anything to drink, so we laid on some spare
sails outside the cabin, and tried to go to sleep, but I could not, for
I was very unhappy. I could see no chance of our escape, as nothing but
a man-of-war would be likely to interfere and recapture us. I thought of
Virginia and Lady O'Connor, and then I thought of poor Bessy, and having
left her in such an unfriendly way, perhaps to remain in a French prison
for years. Bramble and I were fully aware that the promises of the
prizemaster were only to cajole us, and that once in a French port, had
we claimed the fulfillment of them, a kick would have been all which we
should, in all probability, receive for our pains.
About one o'clock in the morning I rose and went on deck. The watch had
been relieved, the weather also looked brighter, as if it were going, to
clear up, and I became still more depressed. Bramble soon followed me.
"It's clearing up," said I, "but I don't think it will last."
"Never a bit," replied Bramble; "in half an hour it will be thicker than
ever, so now I'll go and call the officer, and tell him he had better
get under way: that will make him have less suspicion of us."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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