They could not do so much as a knot per hour, but, at
all events, they were drawing into open water, and the smack steered the
barque quite true.
It was a pity that a second hand did not remain with Joe, but no one
foresaw what would happen. The good mate went below forward, and found
the men worse than ever from drink, panic, and religion. He tried all he
knew to fetch them on deck, but nothing would serve. He tried the
captain, but that worthy seaman was sleeping like a hog, and the cognac
was running in slavers from his mouth.
"Shouldn't wonder if he has 'em on when he starts on the beer again,"
muttered Joe. He saw a large sheath-knife, and secured that in his own
belt; then he took a mouthful of wine, and went to his post.
There was plenty of sea, but the prize was far too valuable to be left,
and Glenn determined to make a bold bid for fortune. Not a single vessel
passed them all night, and they were lonely at dawn next day. The
sailors crept up one by one, but they only gathered in a jabbering knot,
and scowled at the Englishman heavily.
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