“Better talk to him, Rawlins,” suggested Mr. Pauling.
As there seemed nothing more to be discovered on the submarine the party left the under-sea craft and walked to the destroyer which had found her. The sailor to whom the officer had referred proved to be a grizzled old salt—a typical deep-sea sailor and the boys could not take their eyes from him. Touching his gray forelock in salute, the man hitched his trousers, squinted one eye and reflectively scratched his head just over his left ear.
“Yes, Sir,” he said, in reply to Mr. Rawlins’ question. “She was a bit queer, Sir. Blow me ef she warn’t. Man an’ boy Hi’ve been a sailorin’ most thirty year an’ strike me if Hi ever seed a Yankee smack the like o’ her, Sir. What was it was queer about her, you’re askin’ on me? Well, Sir, ’twas like this, Sir. She had a bit too much rake to her marsts, Sir, an’ a bit too high a dead-rise an’ her starn warn’t right an’ her cutwater was diff’rent an’ her cuddy. She carried a couple o’ little kennels to port and sta’board o’ her companion-way,
Sir—same as those bloomin’ West Hindian packets, Sir. An’ as you know, Sir, most Yankee smacks carry main torpmas’s and no fore-torpmas’ while this e’er hooker was sportin’ o’ sticks slim an’ lofty as a yacht’s, Sir, an’ a jib-boom what was a sprung a bit down, Sir. But what got my bally goat, Sir, was the crew. Mos’ of ’em was Scandinav’ans, Sir, but the skipper was a mulatter or somethin’ o’ that specie, Sir, an’ blow me hif he didn’t talk with a haccent what might ha’ been learnt at Wapping, Sir.”
Rawlins whistled.
“I’ll say there was something queer about her!” he exclaimed. “Anything else? Did you note her name and port?”
Once more the old sailor scratched his head and shifted the tobacco in his cheek before replying.
“Cawn’t say as how Hi did, Sir,” he announced at last. “You see, Sir, she had her mainsail lowered, Sir, and a hangin’ a bit sloppy over her stern, Sir, an’ we was alongside an’ didn’t pass under her stern, Sir.”
“What sort of boats did she carry and how many?” asked Rawlins.
“Dories, Sir, six of ’em,” replied the sailor, “anything more, Sir?”