A High Wind in Jamaica - Richard Hughes [65]
Jonsen was still chuckling to himself as he reached the deck. But there his forebodings returned to him with redoubled force. He could _feel_ that man-of-war lying-to in the darkness, biding its time! For the fiftieth time he climbed the ratlines and took his stand at the cross-trees, skinning his eyes.
Presently, looking down, he could just discern the small white figure on the deck which was Emily, hopping and skipping about. But it passed at once out of his mind.
Suddenly his tired eye caught a patch of something darker than the sea. He looked away, then back again, to make sure. It was still there: on the port bow: impossible to make out clearly, though. . . Jonsen slid down the shrouds in a flash, like a prentice. Landing on the deck like a thunderbolt, he nearly startled Emily out of her life: she had no idea he was up there. She startled him no less.
"It's so _hot_ down there," she began, "I can't sleep--"
"Get below!" hissed Jonsen furiously: "don't you dare come up again! And don't let any of the others, till I tell you!"
Emily, thoroughly frightened, tumbled down the ladder as fast as she could, and rolled herself in her blanket from head to foot: partly because her bare legs were really a little chilled, but more for comfort. What had she done? What was happening? She was hardly down when feet were heard scurrying across the deck, and the hatches over her head were loosely fitted into place. The darkness was profound, and seemed to be rolling on her. No one was within reach: and she dared not move an inch. Every one was asleep.
Jonsen called all hands on deck: and in silence they mustered at the rail. The patch was clearly visible now: nearer, and smaller than he had thought at first. They listened for the splash of oars: but it came on in silence.
Suddenly they were upon it, it was grating against the ship's side, slipping astern. It was a dead tree, carried out to sea by some river in spate, and tangled up with weed.
But after that, he kept all hands on deck till dawn. In their new mood they obeyed him readily enough. For they knew he was not incompetent. He generally did the right thing--it was only the fuss he made in any emergency which gave him the appearance of blundering.
Yet, though there were now so many eyes watching, no further alarm was given.
But the moment the first paleness of dawn glimmered, every one's nerves tightened to cracking-point. The rapidly increasing light would any moment show them their fate.
It was not till full daylight, however, that Jonsen would let himself be convinced there was absolutely no man-ofwar there.
As a matter of fact, its royals had sunk below the horizon less than an hour after he had first sighted it.
II
But the alarm of that night caused Jonsen at last to make up his mind.
He altered his course: and as before he had designed it to avoid other shipping, now on the contrary it was calculated to run as soon as possible into the very track of the Eastward Bounders.
Otto rubbed his eyes. What had come over the fellow? Did he want revenge for the fright he had had? Was he going to try and cut out a prize right in the thick of the traffic? It would be like Jonsen, that: to put his head in the lion's mouth after trembling at its roar: and Otto's heart warmed towards him. But he asked no questions.
Meanwhile Jonsen went to his cabin, opened a secret receptacle in his bunk, and took out a job-lot of ships' papers which he had bought from a Havana dealer in such things. _The "John Dodson," of Liverpool, bound for the Seychelles with a cargo of cast-iron pots_--what use was that in these waters? The man had sold him a pup!-- Ah, this was better: _"Lizzie Green," of Bristol, bound from Matanzas to Philadelphia in ballast_. . . a funny trip to make in ballast, true: but that was no one's affair but his imaginary owner's. Jonsen made sure all was in order--filled in the blank dates, and so on--then returned