North laughed, settled himself in his loose clothes sailor fashion, and walked with wide steps across the floor, as if it had been a quarter-deck. A dawning conviction of the truth seized upon the man. He fell back upon the settee, uttering broken ejaculations of delight intermingled with groans.
"That'll do. It's all right. He'll take you for one of the chaps we saved from the wreck, and ask no questions," he panted out.
"It's going to be a roughish night," said North. "I hope your Mr. Mellen can swim, if we happen to get into any trouble."
"No, no, don't depend on that, but he knows the coast, and is as brave as a lion; still I shouldn't like him to be brought into danger, remember that."
"It's not at all likely that he'll be on board," answered North, carelessly.
"Hush up," cried the seaman, "don't you hear the commodore coming? They've just told him about this confounded foot. Hear him swear."
The pilot came in while his assistant was speaking.
"What the thunder is all this about? just when I wanted you most, too, and a rough night. They'll get ahead of us, and all through this confounded wrecking business. Couldn't you keep out of it for once, you rascal?"
"Keep a stiff upper lip, commodore. It's all right," cried the man, pointing to North; "here's a chap I have done a service to, who is willing to take my night's work on himself, just out of gratitude. He's a safe hand."
"Let him bear away, then," cried the pilot, casting a glance at North, which seemed to prove satisfactory; "come on, my man, we have no time to lose."