Ten men of the crew had been selected to remain upon the island, as well as the bo’sun, Mike, old Cap’n Pem, and the two boys, and while Pem growled and remarked that “one peg-leg is bad enough but what we’re a-goin’ fer to do with two, I don’t know,” yet the boys were immensely pleased to find the ex-man-o’-war’s-man was to be with them, for he was never tired of telling deep-sea yarns and the boys loved to hear him and old Pem argue on questions of seamanship and the navy.
Among the men, were one of the boat steerers, two of the Portuguese taken on the Hector at the Azores, and the one-eyed man, Ned, with a negro, who had been helping the cook on the bark, to look after the meals of the shore party.
Cap’n Pem, as commander of the party, had been allowed to select his own men and he had done so with considerable care, choosing those whom he knew were willing and hard workers or had shown unusual ability or skill, for the old whaleman was a keen observer and a fine judge of human nature. While he was apparently giving little heed to what went on about him, nothing escaped his sharp eyes.
The boys felt sorry at leaving the bark and as they shook hands with Captain Edwards and the second mate and said good-by, they almost regretted that they were to remain ashore.
“Don’t know how I’ll get on without my third and fourth mates!” exclaimed the skipper, “but you’ll have a lot more fun here than on the bark. Nothing but knocking about in heavy seas and cold winds. Enjoy yourselves, lads, and see that Cap’n Pem behaves himself. We’ll be back in about six or eight weeks and expect to find you with all casks full of oil.”
Stepping into the waiting boat, the boys were rowed towards the shore, and as the bark’s capstan pawls clanked and they heard the chantey of the men borne to them across the water, a lump rose in their throats, for the old Hector had been their home for many weeks. Then, clear and distinct came the rollicking chorus of:
I think I heard our Old Man say,
“Whisky! Johnny!
I’ll treat my men in a decent way,
Oh, whisky for my Johnny!”
Slowly the great sails rose and were sheeted home, the canvas billowed out to the offshore wind, the long yards swung, and as the crew tailed onto the braces, to the watchers on the beach came:
The ship she’s a-sailing out over the bar.
Away Rio! Away Rio!
The ship she’s a-sailing out over the bar.
We’re bound to the Rio Grande.
Slowly the Hector slipped away. Gracefully she heeled to the press of canvas on her lofty masts. About her cutwater rose a little plume of white, and, rapidly gathering headway, she made for the open sea. Long the boys stood watching her and when, at last, only her royal masts showed faint and dim above the tumbling green seas on the horizon, they turned away, feeling that the last tie that linked them with far-away Fair Haven was gone, that they were marooned upon a desert island scarcely fifteen hundred miles from the South Pole.