The foremast hands did not know much about lining up, but took the places assigned to them, on the forward deck. Over the side a rope ladder was thrown, and then Captain Ponsberry, Tom Grandon, and Larry awaited the arrival of the Russian naval officer with keen interest.
[CHAPTER XII]
TAKEN AS A PRIZE OF WAR
Slowly but surely the small boat came closer to the schooner. She rode the long swells of the Pacific with full grace, and Larry could not help but admire the long, sturdy strokes of the jackies, as they bent to their task.
"I don't know but that they can handle a small boat as well as our own jackies," said Larry.
"Why shouldn't they? Russian naval training ought to be first-class," answered Tom Grandon. "They have been at it longer than Uncle Sam."
"True, but that doesn't always count. Spain had been at it longer than we had, too, but when it came to war we beat her in double-quick order."
As the small boat came closer they saw that the jackies were mostly men of middle age. But the coxswain was younger and so was the naval officer, who was gazing rather anxiously toward the schooner, as if wondering what the result of his mission would be.
"Wonder if that chap can talk English?" queried the first mate. "If he can't the old man will be up a tree, for none of us can talk Russian."
"I reckon Peterson and Semmel can talk it," answered Larry. "But we don't want either of those rascals to open his mouth."