Those leaning over the side saw Venning reach up for the lantern, and then they heard a snarling and snapping.
"Stand ready to haul in!" cried the captain. "That brute will attack the boy. One of you men go down."
The snarling continued, mingled with soothing cries from Venning; and then the weird howl burst forth anew, daunting the sailor who was carrying out the captain's order.
The mate stepped forward. "Stand aside!" he cried, and swung himself over and down. He reached Venning's side, and they saw him peering about him.
"By thunder!" he muttered.
"What is it?" demanded the captain, irritably. "D'ye expect me to spend the whole night here?"
"A minute, sir. Let over a running tackle, and we'll have the whole thing aboard."
"Lively there! Lower the tackle, and don't stand staring with your mouths open. Swing out those davits."
The davits swung out, the tackle ran through the pulleys into the water with a splash, and the mate shifted the unknown craft, with its mysterious freight, amidships. A few moments he occupied in getting the tackle into position.
"Haul in!" he shouted.