After remaining a
quarter of an hour on the boom, during all which time the only sounds that
were heard were the sighings of the night-air, and the sullen and steady
wash of the surf, Captain Truck came on deck again, where he found his
mate waiting his report with intense anxiety. The former was fully aware
of the importance of his discovery, but, being a cool man, he had not
magnified the danger to himself.
"The Moors are down on the coast," he said, in an undertone; "but I do not
think there can be more than two or three of them at the most; probably
spies or scouts; and, could we seize them, we may gain a few hours on
their comrades, which will be all we want; after which they shall be
welcome to the salt and the other dunnage of the poor Dane. Leach, are you
the man to stand by me in this affair?"
"Have I ever failed you, Captain Truck, that you put the question?"
"That you have never, my fine fellow; give me a squeeze of your honest
hand, and let there be a pledge of life or death in it."
The mate met the iron grasp of his commander, and each knew that he
received an assurance on which he might rely.
"Shall I awake the men, sir?" asked Mr. Leach.
"Not one of them. Every hour of sleep the people get will be a lower mast
saved. These sticks that still remain are our foundation, and even one of
them is of more account to us, just now, than a fleet of ships might be at
another time.
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