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Cledd in charge he was not a Salem man and hurry home as fast as we could go. As we bent to our work, Mr. Cledd remarked with a dry smile, "I'm thinking, sir, there's going to be more of a sting to this pirate-and-mutiny business than I'd believed. That smug, sarcastic young man means trouble or I've no eye for weather." "He's the worst of all the Websters," Roger replied thoughtfully.
Yass, sah! Ah's gwine keep mah eye on him." Now what did the cook mean by that, I wondered. But no answer suggested itself to me, and when I entered the cabin I heard things that drove the cook and the man from Boston far out of my mind. "Kipping!" Mr. Cledd, the new chief mate was saying. "Not William Kipping?"
For a moment Roger frowned, then in a low, calm voice he said, "Mr. Cledd, you'll take command on deck. Have a few men with you. Better see that your pistols are well primed. You two, come with me. Now, then, Frank, lead the way." From the deck we could see the lanterns of all the ships lying at anchor, the hills and the land-lights and a boat or two moving on the river.
The coolies already had begun to pass chests of tea into the hold when we came aboard; and under the eye of the second mate, who was proving himself in every respect a competent officer, in his own place the equal, perhaps, of Mr. Cledd in his, all hands were industriously working. The days passed swiftly.
Roger got down the attested copy of the articles and pointed at the neatly written name: "William Kipping." Mr. Cledd looked very grave indeed. "I've heard of Falk he's a vicious scoundrel in some ways, although too weak to be dangerous of his own devices But I know Kipping." "Tell me about him, said Roger.
To our amazement it was the cook who suddenly appeared before us, rolling his eyes wildly under his deep frown. "'Scuse me, gen'lems! 'Scuse me, Cap'n Hamlin! 'Scuse me, Mistah Cledd! 'Scuse me, ev'ybody! Ah knows Ah done didn't had ought to, but Ah says, Frank, you ol' nigger, you jest up 'n' go. Don't you let dat feller git away with all dat yeh money." "What's that?" Roger cried sharply.
That nearest man walks like Blodgett. Has the negro scared them all?" When, just after Mr. Cledd had spoken, Blodgett came aft, we were surprised; but he approached us with an air of suppressed excitement, which averted any reprimand Mr. Cledd may have had in mind. "If you please, sir," he said, "there's a sail to windward." "To windward? You're mistaken.
Although we did not approach them near enough to learn more about them, it seemed probable that they were conveying some great mandarin or chief on affairs of state. "That man Blodgett is telling stories of one kind or another," Mr. Cledd remarked one afternoon, after watching a little group that had gathered by the forecastle-hatch during the first dog-watch.
"That's done," said Roger, when all was over, "in spite of as rascally a crew as ever sailed a Salem ship. I am, I fear, a pirate, a mutineer, and various other unsavory things; but I declare, Mr. Cledd, in addition to them all, I am an honest man."
She was a sight to be proud of, when, rigged once more, she swung at her anchorage. That evening, as Roger and Mr. Cledd, the new second mate, and I were sitting in the cabin and talking of our plans and prospects, we heard a step on the companionway. "Who's that?" Mr. Cledd asked in an undertone. "I thought steward had gone for the night." Roger motioned him to remain silent. We all turned.
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