“There goes a shot!” said the man called Ben, as he pointed to the smack, from whose bow-port the smoke was lazily issuing. “I'll not stay here any longer; shove her away, lads!”
CHAPTER XIX. ON BOARD THE 'CHRISTOBAL'
Without further delay, the men prepared to obey the summons. The boat's chain was cast off, and, as she swung out from the wall, I could see a small standard at her stern, carrying a little white flag, which, as the breeze wafted towards mer showed the enigmatical number 438.
I sprang to my legs and uttered a cry of surprise.
“Well, what is it, master?” said Ben, looking up, and probably expecting to see me take a header into the muddy stream.
“That's the number!” cried I, not knowing what I said. “That's the very number!”
“Very true, master, so it is, but you ha'n't got the counterpart, I guess!”
“Yes, but I have, though!” said I, producing the ticket from the pocket-book.