"We have only one passenger," said one of the sailors, in reply to a question from Tom.. "He is a young fellow named Robert Brown. He was hurt during the storm, but I reckon he's all right now."
Tom was set to coiling some rope and Sam and Dick had to scrub down the deck. This was by no means an agreeable task, but nobody complained.
"We must take what comes," said Dick cheerfully. "So long as we get enough to eat and are not abused I shan't say a word."
The boys had been to work about an hour when Sam saw a young fellow limping around the other end of the deck. There was something strangely familiar about the party, and the youngest Rover drew closer to get a better look at him.
"Dan Baxter!" he cried in astonishment. "Dan Baxter!"
At this cry the person turned and his lower jaw dropped in equal astonishment.
"Who—er—where did you come from?" he stammered.
"So this is the vessel you shipped on?" went on Sam. And then he called out: "Dick! Tom! Come here."
For a brief instant Dan Baxter's face was a study. Then a crafty look came into his eyes and he drew himself up.
"Excuse me, but you have made a mistake in your man," he said coldly.