"Yea, yea!"
"Cross your yards!"
"Yea, yea!"
"Bring the cable to the capstan—Boatswain, fetch the anchor aboard!—Break ground!—Up there, a hand to the foretop and loose the foretopsail!"
"Yea, yea!" And the first man to set foot on the ratlines was running up the rigging.
It was Philip Marsham, for to him the sea was home and there was no night so dark he could not find his way about a ship. Nor did his promptness escape the sharp eye of Captain Candle.
Now, while the captain stood with folded arms at the poop, his mate cried, "Come, my hearts, heave up your anchor! Come one and all! Who says Amen? O brave hearts, the anchor a-peak!"
"Yea, yea!"
"Heave out your topsails!—Haul your sheets!—Let fall your foresail!—You at the helm, there, steer steady before the wind!"
On all the vessels in the harbour, and all along the quay and the streets, men had stopped their work to see the Rose of Devon sail. But though most of them stood idle and silent, there was a sudden flurry on the quay where but now she had been lying, and two men burst out, calling after her and waving their arms.