Jacques now said to the boys, "Why didn't you come down when I was making signs to you, hallooing 'mistral' enough to split my throat?"
"We couldn't hear you."
"Couldn't you hear the crows, and see the sheep all huddled together?"
"We didn't know what it meant."
"I rather think you know now."
They lay thus for an hour, when an order was given to man the windlass. The crew, all young, athletic men, having enjoyed a long repose,—stimulated by the strongest motives, self-interest, pride of seamanship, and manly emulation,—sprang like tigers to their work, and "catted" the anchor by hand.
"There's your bed, Mr. Griffin," said Ned, as they shot by the high bluff.
"Never mind; I've had one good night's sleep in it."
"There's Nelson," said Jacques, as they rounded the first prominent headland; "he means to hold on. I had a good look at him yesterday with a glass. He has sent his top hamper down; his yards are pointed to the wind, and, I've no doubt, two anchors ahead."
"Nelson hates the Yankees," said the captain. "How he would grit his teeth if he knew who we are!"