The deck of the Sarah Williams presented a lively scene as Kate stood upon the little quarter-deck and gazed forward. The sailors were walking about and sitting about, smoking, talking, or coiling things away. There were people from the shore with baskets containing fruit and other wares for sale, and all stirring and new and very interesting to Miss Kate as she stood, with her ribbons flying in the river breeze.
"Who is that young fellow?" she said to Ben Greenway, who was standing by her, "the one with the big basket? It seems to me I have seen him before."
"Oh, ay!" said Ben, "he has been on the farm. That is Dickory Charter, whose father was drowned out fishing a few years ago. He is a good lad, an' boards all ships comin' in or goin' out to sell his wares, for his mither leans on him now, having no ither."
The youth, who seemed to feel that he was being talked about, now walked aft, and held up his basket. He was a handsome youngster, lightly clad and barefooted; and, although not yet full grown, of a strong and active build. Kate beckoned to him, and bought an orange.
"An' how is your mither, Dickory?" said Ben.
"Right well, I thank you," said he, and gazed at Kate, who was biting a hole in her orange.
Then, as he turned and went away, having no reason to expect to sell anything more, Kate remarked to Ben: "That is truly a fine-looking young fellow. He walks with such strength and ease, like a deer or a cat."
"That comes from no' wearin' shoes," said Ben; "but as for me, I would like better to wear shoes an' walk mair stiffly."
Now there came aft a sailor, who touched his cap and told Ben Greenway that he was wanted below to superintend the stowing some cases of the captain's liquors. So Kate, left to herself, began to think about what she should pack into her little bundle. She would make it very small, for the fewer things she took with her the more she would buy at Spanish Town. But the contents of her package did not require much thought, and she soon became a little tired staying there by herself, and therefore she was glad to see young Dickory, with his orange-basket, walking aft.
"I don't want any more oranges," she said, when he was near enough, "but perhaps you may have other fruit?"
He came up to her and put down his basket. "I have bananas, but perhaps you don't like them?"
"Oh, yes, I do!" she answered.
But, without offering to show her the fruit, Dickory continued: "There's one thing I don't like, and that's the men on board your ship."
"What do you mean?" she asked, amazed.
"Speak lower," he said; and, as he spoke, he bethought himself that it might be well to hold out towards her a couple of bananas.
"They're a bad, hard lot of men," he said. "I heard that from more than one person. You ought not to stay on this ship."
"And what do you know about it, Mr. Impudence?" she asked, with brows uplifted. "I suppose my father knows what is good for me."
"But he is not here," said Dickory.
Kate looked steadfastly at him. He did not seem as ruddy as he had been. And then she looked out upon the forward deck, and the thought came to her that when she had first noticed these men it had seemed to her that they were, indeed, a rough, hard lot. Kate Bonnet was a brave girl, but without knowing why she felt a little frightened.
"Your name is Dickory, isn't it?" she said.
He looked up quickly, for it pleased him to hear her use his name. "Indeed it is," he answered.
"Well, Dickory," said she, "I wish you would go and find Ben Greenway. I should like to have him with me until my father comes back."
He turned, and then stopped for an instant. He said in a clear voice: "I will go and get the shilling changed." And then he hurried away.
He was gone a long time, and Kate could not understand it. Surely the Sarah Williams was not so big a ship that it would take all this time to look for Ben Greenway. But he did come back, and his face seemed even less ruddy than when she had last seen it. He came up close to her, and began handling his fruit.
"I don't want to frighten you," he said, "but I must tell you about things. I could not find Ben Greenway, and I asked one of the men about him, feigning that he owed me for some fruit, and the man looked at another man and laughed, and said that he had been sent for in a hurry, and had gone ashore in a boat."
"I cannot believe that," said Kate; "he would not go away and leave me."
Dickory could not believe it either, and could offer no explanation.
Kate now looked anxiously over the water towards the town, but no father was to be seen.
"Now let me tell you what I found out," said Dickory, "you must know it. These men are wicked robbers. I slipped quietly among them to find out something, with my shilling in my hand, ready to ask somebody to change, if I was noticed."
"Well, what next?" laying her hand on his arm.
"Oh, don't do that!" he said quickly; "better take hold of a banana. I spied that Big Sam, who is sailing-master, and a black-headed fellow taking their ease behind some boxes, smoking, and I listened with all sharpness. And Sam, he said to the other one—not in these words, but in language not fit for you to hear—what he would like to do would be to get off on the next tide. And when the other fellow asked him why he didn't go then and leave the fool—meaning your father—to go back to his farm, Big Sam answered, with a good many curses, that if he could do it he would drop down the river that very minute and wait at the bar until the water was high enough to cross, but that it was impossible because they must not sail until your father had brought his cash-box on board. It would be stupid to sail without that cash-box."
"Dickory," said she, "I am frightened; I want to go on shore, and I want to see my father and tell him all these things."
"But there is no boat," said Dickory; "every boat has left the ship."
"But you have one," said she, looking over the side.
"It is a poor little canoe," he answered, "and I am afraid they would not let me take you away, I having no orders to do so."
Kate was about to open her mouth to make an indignant reply, when he exclaimed, "But here comes a boat from the town; perhaps it is your father!"
She sprang to the rail. "No, it is not," she exclaimed; "it holds but one man, who rows."
She stood, without a word, watching the approaching boat, Dickory doing the same, but keeping himself out of the general view. The boat came alongside and the oarsman handed up a note, which was presently brought to Kate by Big Sam, young Dickory Charter having in the meantime slipped below with his basket.
"A note from your father, Mistress Bonnet," said the sailing-master. And as she read it he stood and looked upon her.
"My father tells me," said Kate, speaking decidedly but quietly, "that he will come on board very soon, but I do not wish to wait for him. I will go back to the town. I have affairs which make it necessary for me to return immediately. Tell the man who brought the note that I will go back with him."
Big Sam raised his eyebrows and his face assumed a look of trouble.
"It grieves me greatly, Mistress Bonnet," he said, "but the man has gone. He was ordered not to wait here."
"Shout after him!" cried Kate; "call him back!"