The Green Hand: Adventures of a Naval LieutenantCupples, George
General
The Green Hand: Adventures of a Naval Lieutenant
Cupples, George
Sea stories; Seafaring life -- Juvenile fiction; Voyages and travels -- Juvenile fiction
'Why, sir,' answered Jacobs hastily, 'he's a desperate sort, is that
'ere Foster, if it was only what I've heard him _say_, swinging sound
asleep in 's hammock. I wouldn't tell as much otherways; but I tell ye
what it is, sir, my mind misgived me o' this here overnight
boat-business! It's my sober notion, Leftenant Collins,' gravely added
he, seeing I still looked anxiously to him--'it's my notion, if that
craft's aught of a pirate, Harry Foster and more nor half of his watch
'ud think no more o' joining her, on a chance, than _one_ on 'em did o'
taking you that clip with a handspike this morning, sir! As for this
here brig, Master Ned, your honour,' continued he, 'what did she do,
but, to my fancy, she's keeped a eye on us ever since we first fell foul
of her?'
"'Jacobs! Jacobs!' I broke out directly, 'get every hand up on the
foc'sle at once, with everything like arms you can find--for God's sake
look sharp, and then bear a hand here to have the carronades fore and
aft run in, and stuffed full of some old iron or other, as we can't have
grape!' Hurried as it was, I saw the whole thing--a regular deep-laid
plot it seemed, too--and the first time I had seen light as to what the
strange brig could be after. Here had she dodged us, no doubt, for
weeks; got hold of our friends by accident, which would give her a clue
how to find us anywhere during the rest of our voyage, as we were too
strong-handed for her _then_. 'Twas very likely they thought we should
suspect something, and follow wherever they could manage to lure the
Indiaman--or else possibly they had run into the river the very same day
we did, and perhaps seen us out of the haze which hid the land from us
that morning; and _now_, if they had studied it for years, they couldn't
have contrived a cleverer trap than this that Finch and the passengers
had run their heads into, with more than a dozen mutinous dogs, at
least, in their company. A prize like an East-Indiaman was worth taking
some trouble about, of course; while such villains as Foster and his
messmates, I knew, would fancy a Bengal nabob carried untold treasures
with him, and it was plain to me they had something like an
understanding with the stranger's crew. 'Ay, ay, sir,' said Jacobs, in
answer to me; 'hows'ever, the first mate left word with Mr Macleod he'd
send up a rocket and a blue-light in case o' a good success, or else
come back with the boats.' 'Heaven help them, Jacobs!' said I, taking a
hasty turn or two, 'for _we_ can't. But there _is_ something more horrid
in the matter than I fancied--only all we can do is to look to ourselves
and the ship! Harkye, though, Bob,' added I, following him; 'bring up
the beef-kid, will ye? I feel terribly sharp-set, notwithstanding.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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