"You will never get
out of them," said Mrs. Van Oort, when he got into her husband's large
smallclothes; but he who had often jumped out of a tub felt no
despair about jumping out of two. In every way Scudamore hoped for the
best--which is the only right course for a man who has done his own
best, and is helpless.
Keeping out of the usual track of commerce, because of the privateers
and other pests of war waylaying it, they met no sail of either friend
or foe until they cast anchor at St. Jago. Here there was no ship bound
for England, and little chance of finding one, for weeks or perhaps for
months to come. The best chance of getting home lay clearly in going yet
further away from home, and so he stuck to the good ship still, and they
weighed for the Cape on the 12th of May. Everything set against poor
Scuddy--wind, and wave, and the power of man. It had been the 16th of
April when he was rescued from the devouring sea; some days had been
spent by the leisurely Dutchman in providing fresh supplies, and the
stout bark's favourite maxim seemed to be, "the more haste the less
speed." Baffling winds and a dead calm helped to second this philosophy,
and the first week of June was past before they swung to their moorings
in Table Bay.
"What chance is there now of my doing any good?" the young Englishman
asked himself, bitterly. "This place is again in the hands of the Dutch,
and the English ships stand clear of it, or only receive supplies by
stealth.
Pages:
586
587
588
589
590
591
592
593
594
595
596
597
598
599
600
601
602
603
604
605
606
607
608
609
610