off our port beam.  Her topsail was the only canvas she had set, and she was so low in the water that I could not see her deck amidships at that distance.  All except a little of her high poop appeared to be under, or so low that it was invisible.  I wondered why her captain had not put off sooner, and I knew that as soon as Thompson came on deck he would be in a fury at his having waited so long.  There was not a breath of air now, so we were certain to be in company for several hours at least.

While I looked over the expanse of heaving ocean I saw a black spot between the ships.  In a moment I made out a boat rising and falling, propelled by four oars, and headed for us.  Sometimes she would disappear behind a high lump of sea and then she would be on top, and I made out she was coming along right handily.

As she drew nearer I made her out to be full of men.  She came up under our mizzen channels and hailed.  Half the watch was bending over the side looking at her, and one man threw a line.  This was seized, and the next moment her crew came clambering over the rail.

Jenks, the old sailor who had come over in the boat with me the day before, was on deck to receive his shipmates.  The old fellow’s face wrinkled with amusement at the sight of his worn-out countrymen until it looked like the slack of a bellows.  There was an unholy twinkle in his eye as he greeted them.

On the boarding of the officer of the boat, a tall Englishman who was the ship’s mate, the man Jenks stopped his pleasantry at the tired crew’s expense, but it was too late.  He was ordered into the boat, with three other men who were fresh, to be sent away for the remaining men on the ship.  Then the officer mounted the poop just as Captain Thompson emerged from below.

The officer bowed and touched his hat deferentially, but the skipper stood looking at him out of his glinting eyes, while his nose worked and twitched.

“Don’t seem to be in much of a hurry, hey?” said our captain, with his drawl.

“We’ve been working steadily all night at the pumps, sir, hopin’ to keep her afloat, sir.  The old man—­I beg pardon, Captain Sackett,—­says as he’ll not abandon her while she swims.  The rest of us have permission to go, sir.”

“Is her cargo of any particular value, then?”

“Yes, sir.  It’s palm oil and valuable woods.  There’s eight hundred barrels of palm oil in her, and the captain’s got his all—­every cent he has in the world.  He won’t leave her.”

“Do you know what you resemble, hey?” said our skipper, dryly.

“I do not, sir.”

“Well, I don’t want to hurt the feelings of a poor, shipwrecked sailor, nor insinuate nothing sech as no gentleman ought.  No, sirree.  You are my guest aboard here, and damned welcome to you.  At the same time, if I ware telling anybody as to what kind of a fellow you was, I should say,—­yessir, after thinking the matter over carefully, and taking all points into consideration,—­I might say that I thought ye an all-around white-livered, cowardly cuss, an’ that’s a fact.”