Their boat and oars had been hauled up among the bushes, so they
launched it and pulled out to the barque.
"No luck, then!" cried Joshua Hird, the mate, looking down with a pale
face from the poop.
"His camp was empty, but he may come down to us yet," said Craddock,
with his hand on the ladder.
Somebody upon deck began to laugh. "I think," said the mate, "that
these men had better stay in the boat."
"Why so?"
"If you will come aboard, sir, you will understand it." He spoke in a
curious, hesitating fashion.
The blood flushed to Craddock's gaunt face. "How is this, Master Hird?"
he cried, springing up the side. "What mean you by giving orders to my
boat's crew?"
But as he passed over the bulwarks, with one foot upon the deck and one
knee upon the rail, a tow-bearded man, whom he had never before observed
aboard his vessel, grabbed suddenly at his pistol. Craddock clutched at
the fellow's wrist, but at the same instant his mate snatched the
cutlass from his side.
"What roguery is this?" shouted Craddock, looking furiously around him.
But the crew stood in knots about the deck, laughing and whispering
amongst themselves without showing any desire to go to his assistance.
Even in that hurried glance Craddock noticed that they were dressed in
the most singular manner, with long riding-coats, full-skirted velvet
gowns and coloured ribands at their knees, more like men of fashion than
seamen.
Pages:
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66