It was blowing fresh outside, with a strong send of
sea. The spray flew in the oarsmen's faces. They saw
the Union Jack blow abroad from the FLYING SCUD,
the men clustered at the rail, the cook in the galley-
door, the captain on the quarter-deck with a pith
helmet and binoculars. And the whole familiar
business, the comfort, company, and safety of a ship,
heaving nearer at each stroke, maddened them with joy.
Wicks was the first to catch the line, and swarm on
board, helping hands grabbing him as he came and
hauling him across the rail.
"Captain, sir, I suppose?" he said, turning to the hard
old man in the pith helmet.
"Captain Trent, sir," returned the old gentleman.
"Well, I'm Captain Kirkup, and this is the crew of the
Sydney schooner CURRENCY LASS, dismasted at sea
January 28th."
"Ay, ay," said Trent. "Well, you're all right now.
Lucky for you I saw your signal. I didn't know I was
so near this beastly island, there must be a drift to
the south'ard here; and when I came on deck this
morning at eight bells, I thought it was a ship afire.
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