"It looks bad for them, poor fellows!" said my uncle, shading his eyes
to gaze seaward. "The captain means to have them back."
"Nonsense! uncle," I said; "it's a false alarm. That's not our ship."
"Not our ship?" he cried, springing up. "Of course it's not. And
whatever she is those on board don't see us."
We stood watching for a few minutes before I ran to the boat and got the
glass out of the locker to have a good look.
"Well, what do you make of her?" said my uncle.
"I don't know what she is," I said; "but there are only two people on
deck--one forward and the other leaning half asleep over the wheel.
Here, I'll go and call those two back."
"You'd call in vain," said my uncle, as I replaced the glass in the
case. "They're beyond earshot, and you could not find them."
"What are we to do then, uncle?" I said.
"Have breakfast, my boy. I want mine."
"But those two poor fellows?"
"Well, they took fright, Nat. A guilty conscience needs no accuser.
They had run from their ship, and the sight of one was enough to make
them feel that they were being sought."
"But we ought to do something, uncle," I said.
"We can't do anything but wait, my lad," he replied. "There, don't be
uneasy; they'll come back as soon as they've got over the scaring. I
daresay we shall see or hear of them before night."
My uncle's words brought back the hungry feeling which had been swept
away, and I saw to the breakfast, making the coffee and frizzling some
slices of bacon, the meal being thoroughly enjoyable, eaten there in the
shade of a great tree, while everything around looked beautiful in the
extreme; and it was not until my morning hunger was nearly appeased that
the flies and the flying thoughts of our late companions tormented me
much.
Then they began to get worse; and in a fit of sympathy I felt ashamed of
enjoying my meal so well while those two poor fellows were suffering
from hunger and fear.
"What's the matter, Nat?" said my uncle; and then, "Look! Who'd have
thought of seeing humming-birds so near the sea?"
I did not reply, for I did not know which part of my uncle's remark to
answer first; so I stared at the lovely little birds flitting about some
flowers.
"Steamer's getting a good way along," said my uncle, after a few
minutes' silence. "Here, I must have two or three of those little
beauties."
"They're not quetzals, uncle," I said, smiling.
"No; but I'm not going to miss getting rare specimens, Nat. We may not
find the quetzals, and we must not go back empty-handed. Is the anchor
quite fast?"
"Yes, uncle, perfectly," I said.
"Then let's get what good birds we can while we're waiting. The sound
of our guns may bring those fellows back."
He was right, for about mid-day, when we were busily preparing some
skins of the lovely little humming-birds we had shot, I caught up the
gun by my side, for their was a peculiar piping cry.
"What bird's that?" I said, in a sharp whisper.
"_Pee-wew_!" came softly.
"Some kind of sea bird," said my uncle. "It sounds like a gull."