Then
that ceased, and that was all.
I repeat. That was all. Never a sound came from for'ard. I held my
watch till daylight. I held it till Margaret came on deck with her
cheery "What ho of the night, brave mariner?" I held the next watch
(which should have been the mate's) till midday, eating both
breakfast and lunch behind the sheltering jiggermast. And I held all
afternoon, and through both dog-watches, my dinner served likewise on
the deck.
And that was all. Nothing happened. The galley-stove smoked three
times, advertising the cooking of three meals. Shorty made faces at
me as usual across the rim of the for'ard-house. The Maltese Cockney
caught an albatross. There was some excitement when Tony the Greek
hooked a shark off the jib-boom, so big that half a dozen tailed on
to the line and failed to land it. But I caught no glimpse of Mr.
Pike nor of the renegade Sidney Waltham.
In short, it was a lazy, quiet day of sunshine and gentle breeze.
There was no inkling to what had happened to the mate. Was he a
prisoner? Was he already overside? Why were there no shots? He had
his big automatic.
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