“Yes, sir, a little, sir,” replied Ned respectfully. “I was in the field hospital over there, for a time, sir.”
“Thought so!” ejaculated the mate. “All right, come on, men, git a move on!”
“But can’t we go?” cried Tom.
“Nope, no place fer youngsters.” Then, as he noticed the crestfallen look on the boys’ faces, he suddenly relented.
“Oh, blow me! All right!” he burst out. “Hadn’t been fer ye we wouldn’t a-been a-goin’. Reckon ye gotta right ter go. Come along!”
To the accompaniment of lusty cheers from the men, the boat was pushed off, the five oars took the water, and with a “Give way boys!” from Cap’n Pem, the rescuers headed for the open sea. Straining at their oars as though they were going on a whale, the men fairly lifted the speedy whaleboat through the water, while, in the stern, Cap’n Pem stood grasping the huge steering oar and ever and anon urging his crew to even greater efforts. Rapidly the beach was left behind, and swinging the boat to the westward and rounding a projecting, rocky point, the old whaleman steered a course for the hazy outlines of a distant island.
“Reckon thet’s the one,” he remarked. “’Pears to me I recollec’ them there needles. Used ter call ’em the donkey’s ears.”
For hour after hour the boat sped on. Elephant Island grew dim in the distance and more and more distinct became the island ahead. Gradually, from the mist it took form and shape. The boys could see the rugged, central volcanic cone; little by little the lower slopes became visible, and at last, Tom gave a shout of joy, for looming up from the sea at one end of the island were two steep-sided, conical peaks.
“Thar she be!” announced old Pem. “Give way, lads! If that poor lad’s a livin’ he’ll likely be a sightin’ of us purty quick.”
Half an hour later, the island loomed close ahead and the boys strained their eyes in an effort to make out the hut in which the castaway had lived. But not until they were within half a mile of the shore did they see it; a little, tumble-down shanty of gray, weather-beaten boards and ragged flapping sail-cloth tucked into a corner of the rocks and so nearly like them in color that it was scarcely distinguishable. But search the beach and rocks as they would, they could see no sign of life, and their spirits fell, for all began to fear that they had arrived too late, that the bleaching bones of the wounded castaway would be all that they would find. Running their boat upon the shingle, the crew leaped out, and led by Cap’n Pem, hurried towards the house, hallooing as they went. Then, when within a score of paces from the hut, a crazy, makeshift door swung open and a man stepped forth. And at sight of him, every one stopped short and gazed in amazement. The man was a gray-headed, coal-black negro with a wooden leg!