"What is it, Joe?" cried Rodd.
"Easy, sir!" said the man softly. "Not too loud," he continued, from
where he was seated upon the cross-trees. "I don't want to give the
skipper a false alarm, else he won't believe me next time."
"What about?"
"Easy, my lad! Just in a whisper like. I aren't sure, but to you I
says, Land ho!"
"Whereabouts, Joe?" cried Rodd excitedly.
"Ah!" cried Morny, springing up. "Land!" And he faced round to gaze
towards the brig that was sailing very slowly after them some three
hundred yards away--sailing, but doing little more than forge her way
through the water.
"Nay, not that way, sir," said Joe softly, "but doo east. You can't see
anything from down there, Mr Rodd, sir. I can't even make certain with
the glass."
"Hold hard, Joe! I am coming up," cried Rodd. "All right, sir; but you
will be disappointed when you do."
"I won't be long, Morny," said Rodd eagerly.
"No; be quick," whispered Morny excitedly. "I want for my father to
know. He is so anxious about the brig."
Rodd gave him a quick jerk of the head as he went on climbing the
ratlines as quickly as he could, forgetting all about the heat and the
silvery glare of the piercing sunshine.
He was not long mounting to the sailor's side, seating himself on the
opposite side of the mast.
"Now then," he cried, as he shuffled into his place; "let me look."
"All right, sir. Ketch hold," replied the sailor stolidly. "You'll do
it; your eyes are so much younger and sharper than mine."
"None of your gammon, Joe!" cried the boy sharply, as he focussed the
glass to suit his eyes, while with one arm embracing the butt of the
main-topgallant-mast he held the tube steadily to his eye, asking for
guidance the while.
"Now then," he said; "whereabouts?"
"Right straight ahead, sir. You can't miss it if it's there, for it
stretches away as far as you like to left and right!"
"Why, there's no land, Joe."
"Not looking down low enough, sir, perhaps. It aren't right up in the
sky."
"Well, who's looking up in the sky?" cried Rodd irritably.--"I am
looking right down to the horizon line."
"Well, that's right, sir. Take a good long look. Now then, can't you
see it?"
There was silence for a few moments, and Morny, who was gazing upwards,
seemed to be all eyes and ears.
"Can't you see it, Master Rodd?" repeated Joe.
"No."
"Perhaps 'tarn't land, then, sir."
"No. It was all your fancy. There's nothing to be seen."
"Where are you looking, sir?"
"At a little low bank of pale misty cloud. That's all, Joe. Your eyes
want a good rub."
"Dessay they do, sir. They aren't much account," said the man; "but
that caps what I saw," and putting his hands to the sides of his mouth
he yelled out in stentorian tones, "Land ho!"--a signal that was
followed by the hurried shuffling sound of feet ascending to the deck.
"Here, what are you doing?" cried Rodd angrily. "Spreading a false
alarm like that!"
"Oh, it's right enough, sir."
"But there's nothing but a cloud there, Joe."
"Looks like it, sir, but land it is all the same."
"Where away?" came in the skipper's hoarse voice.
"Dead ahead, sir," replied the sailor, and Rodd steadied the glass
again, bringing it to bear upon what looked more than ever like the
faintest of faint hazes upon the surface of the distant sea.
"Can you make it out, Rodd?" cried Uncle Paul, who had hurried on deck
with the Count.
"Well, I can just see something, uncle, and I suppose it's land."
"Oh, that's right enough, my lad," cried the captain. "Can't be
anything else."
"Not clouds?"
"Ah, I don't say that," cried the skipper. "You may see a bit of haze
too, but there's solid land beneath. There, sir," continued the
skipper, "that's what we are looking for. Now the next thing we want to
see is water."
"Well, we can see that plainly enough, Joe," said Rodd, speaking with
his eyes still to the glass.
"Ay, but he means dirty water, sir."
"What do you want to see dirty water for?"
"Muddy, then, sir, showing as there's a river coming out there. I say,
sir, wouldn't t'other young gent like to come up and have a squint?"
"Oh, of course. I forgot. Below there! Morny! Come on up and have a
look."
The lad sprang to the main shrouds and began to hurry up, while Joe
Cross, who had finished the task to achieve which he had been sent,
began to lower himself down, leaving space for the young Frenchman, to
whom the glass was handed in turn, ready for him to declare that he
could make out the distant land.
"Ah," he panted, as he handed back the glass, "how I have longed to see
that! Now, Rodd, we shall soon get the brig careened over and the leaks
repaired, and then--"
"Well," said Rodd, "what then?"
"Be off to sea again," cried Morny excitedly.
"Well, you seem in a precious hurry," grumbled Rodd.
"Wouldn't you be if your schooner was like our brig?"
"No. Uncle and I are reckoning upon making a lot of discoveries ashore.
If you are on a scientific expedition, wouldn't that do as well for
you?"
"No," replied the French lad shortly. "We must follow out our
researches by sea."
"Then what is it you are looking for? I thought you were going to tell
me the other day."
"Yes, my father," cried Morny, answering a hail from below. "I am
coming down."
When the two lads descended it was to find that the Count had been
speaking to the skipper, who had given orders for the schooner's boat to
be lowered so that the two visitors could return at once to the brig,
with the understanding that both vessels were to send up studding sails
and use every possible speed now to get within touch of the shore,
before making south and keeping a bright look-out for some estuary or
river mouth.
"You will follow me, sir," said the skipper; "but do you know what this
coast line will be like?"
"I cannot say I do," replied the Count. "Cliff and hill, with mountains
farther in?"
"Nay, sir; all muddy shore, covered with dark green mangrove forest. I
don't suppose we shall be long before I send you up a signal; and then
we can sail right in. There will be nothing to mind in the way of
rocks, for where I lead it will be all mud."
Very shortly afterwards the lads parted, and as Rodd stood looking after
the boat that was bearing their two visitors to the brig, Uncle Paul
came up close behind him.
"Pity those two were born Frenchmen, Rodd, my boy," said the doctor,
"for there is something very gentlemanly about the Count, and I like
that lad Morny too. There is something about him, Rodney, that you
might very well copy."
"Is there, uncle?"
"Yes, sir, there is. Certainly. I am not your father, but I am your
uncle, and it gratifies me very much to see the polished, almost
reverent way in which that lad behaves towards the Count. It's polite,
and it's respectful, and it's--er--it's--er--"
"Why, you wouldn't like it, uncle, if I were to behave to you just as he
does to the Count."
"Well, not exactly, Rodney, but there's something very nice about it.
Great pity, though, that they are French, and so corroded, so crusted
over, as I may call it, with a sort of hero-worship for that tyrannical
usurper. There, I won't mention his name."
"That's right, uncle; don't, please."
"Why, sir?"
"Because it always makes you so cross, uncle."
"Now, Rodney, that's what I don't like. If I have an antipathy to a
scoundrel, and speak out firmly as an Englishman should, it is not for a
boy like you to say I am cross; and I am quite sure that young Morny
would have had too much common-sense to speak out like that to his
father. It is a great pity, though, that they are both, as I say, so
eaten up with that hero-worship, and I am very much afraid that I spoke
a little too plainly to the Count to-day. It was rather unfortunate
too. It was just when we had been having a very interesting
conversation upon the medusae, especially those of a phosphorescent
nature. By the way, has Morny said much to you about the object of
their research?"
"No, uncle. He always seems disinclined to speak."
"Humph! Yes, he does seem very reticent. His father as good as said,
as I think I told you, that this was a voyage of discovery, a search for
something he wanted to take back, and which was to make his country very
great. But he has never said what, and it would be so very
ungentlemanly to seem curious."
"But you do feel curious to know, don't you, uncle?"
"Well, I must confess, my boy, that I do--a little jealous, perhaps, of
another man's success, for I did learn as much as this, that he felt
pretty sure of being successful if he could get the brig sound again.
Well, I suppose we shall know some day."
"I don't like to say any more to Morny, uncle. It would seem so small;
and besides, he never questions me anything about what we are doing--
only seems very much interested."
"You are quite right, Rodd. It would be mean and petty. Leave it to
them, and if they like to take us into their confidence, well and good.
If they do not, well, it is no business of ours."
"Why, uncle," cried Rodd suddenly, and then he stopped. "It isn't
because--"
Rodd stopped short again, looking straight away over the sea, as if in
deep thought.
"Well, my boy? It isn't because what?"
"Oh, I don't like to say, uncle. You would laugh at me."
"How do you know that? Wait and see," cried Uncle Paul. "Now then,
what were you thinking?"
"I was wondering whether they could be trying to discover that which we
found quite by accident."
"That which we found quite by accident, Pickle?"
"Yes, uncle, and that may be the reason why they don't like to talk
about it. You see, all ships' captains and people have been so laughed
at, and told that they are inventing fables, that they are very quiet
and like to keep things to themselves, just the same as Captain Chubb
was when we saw that thing. You see, uncle--"
"Go on, Pickle! Go on!" cried Uncle Paul.
"Oh, I haven't much more to say, uncle, only this--if ordinary captains
are so particular about speaking, and so afraid of ridicule, wouldn't a
big scientific man like the Count, who has fitted out an expedition for
the discovery, be very careful too, lest the object of his voyage should
get about? But oh, nonsense! It's ridiculous. It can't be that.
Don't laugh at me, uncle. It's only what I thought."
"I was not going to laugh at you, Rodney, my boy," said the doctor
quietly, "for the simple reason that I do not see anything to laugh at.
It's a very clever, good idea, and quite possible. Yes, my boy, it's
more than possible. I don't say that you are right, but very likely to
be. The Count and his son are French, and, like their countrymen, very
touchy and sensitive and afraid of ridicule. I shouldn't be at all
surprised, my boy, if that really is the reason for their being so
secretive in their ways."
"I am glad you think so, uncle," cried the boy.
"No, no, no; don't take it like that. It may be after all only a fancy
of yours."
"Yes, uncle, but if that's what they are searching for, to prove that
there are such--such--er--what-you-may-call-'ems in the sea--"
"Phenomena, boy--phenomena," said the doctor shortly.
"Yes, uncle; phenomena--wouldn't it be an act of kindness to tell them
that we have already made the discovery, and try to show them the part
of the ocean where such creatures are to be found?"
"Hum! No, my boy. No. We should be making matters worse. Not only
should we be showing the Count and his son that we have found out what
they want to keep secret, but we should be robbing them of the honour of
their discovery as well. No; let them take us into their confidence if
they like, and if they do, so much the better. If they do not--well,
the loss is theirs."