They could hear Penn’s voice and Jason’s together.  Then Penn’s went on alone, and Salters slipped off his hat, for Penn was praying.  Presently the little man came up the steps, huge drops of sweat on his face, and looked at the crew.  Dan was still sobbing by the wheel.

“He don’t know us,” Salters groaned.  “It’s all to do over again, checkers and everything—­an’ what’ll he say to me?”

Penn spoke; they could hear that it was to strangers.  “I have prayed,” said he.  “Our people believe in prayer.  I have prayed for the life of this man’s son.  Mine were drowned before my eyes—­she and my eldest and—­the others.  Shall a man be more wise than his Maker?  I prayed never for their lives, but I have prayed for this man’s son, and he will surely be sent him.”

Salters looked pleadingly at Penn to see if he remembered.

“How long have I been mad?” Penn asked suddenly.  His mouth was twitching.

“Pshaw, Penn!  You weren’t never mad,” Salters began “Only a little distracted like.”

“I saw the houses strike the bridge before the fires broke out.  I do not remember any more.  How long ago is that?”

“I can’t stand it!  I can’t stand it!” cried Dan, and Harvey whimpered in sympathy.

“Abaout five year,” said Disko, in a shaking voice.

“Then I have been a charge on some one for every day of that time.  Who was the man?”

Disko pointed to Salters.

“Ye hain’t—­ye hain’t!” cried the sea-farmer, twisting his hands together.  “Ye’ve more’n earned your keep twice-told; an’ there’s money owin’ you, Penn, besides ha’af o’ my quarter-share in the boat, which is yours fer value received.”

“You are good men.  I can see that in your faces.  But—­”

“Mother av Mercy,” whispered Long Jack, “an’ he’s been wid us all these trips!  He’s clean bewitched.”

A schooner’s bell struck up alongside, and a voice hailed through the fog:  “0 Disko!  ’Heard abaout the Jennie Cushman?”

“They have found his son,” cried Penn.  “Stand you still and see the salvation of the Lord!”

“Got Jason aboard here,” Disko answered, but his voice quavered.  “There—­warn’t any one else?”

“We’ve fund one, though.  ‘Run acrost him snarled up in a mess o’ lumber thet might ha’ bin a foc’sle.  His head’s cut some.”

“Who is he?”

The ‘We’re Here’s’ heart-beats answered one another.

“Guess it’s young Olley,” the voice drawled.

Penn raised his hands and said something in German.  Harvey could have sworn that a bright sun was shining upon his lifted face; but the drawl went on:  “Sa-ay!  You fellers guyed us consid’rable t’other night.”

“We don’t feel like guyin’ any now,” said Disko.

“I know it; but to tell the honest truth we was kinder—­kinder driftin’ when we run agin young Olley.”

It was the irrepressible Carrie Pitman, and a roar of unsteady laughter went up from the deck of the ‘We’re Here’.