"Starboard a little," said Hemming to Jack, who was steering. "I think
that I can make out the opening I want to find; yes, that's it, I'm
sure." In a few minutes the boat glided in between high ocean-worn
rocks, round from the waves of the Atlantic dashing against them for
thousands of years past. A grapnel was hove on to the rocks, and there
she lay as snug as any on board could desire. The boat was furnished
with a little stove for cooking, and they had a good supply of eatables
and drinkables on board, the latter being, however, more in the shape of
tea, coffee, and cocoa, than spirits. Having supped, all hands turned
in to sleep except two, an officer and man, who sat up to keep watch.
Jack, Adair, and Hemming succeeded each other, but though they kept
their ears open not a sound could they hear to indicate the approach of
any vessel. At length the sun rose, but Hemming determined to remain
where he was all day, hoping that, should a breeze spring up, the
looked-for slaver might make her appearance. Hour after hour passed
pleasantly enough, however, for they had no lack of provisions, and
books, and chess, and games for the men. Captain Lascelles thought that
his seamen, wearing out their days under the broiling sun of Africa,
required being amused just as much as the gallant fellows who have been
shut up for many dreary months amid the snow and ice of the Arctic
regions. The consequence of his care in that and in a variety of other
ways, was that he lost fewer men than any other ship on the station.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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