In half an hour, however, there was no doubt that this was the derelict that had been reported by the Marie-Rose. As the Miami neared her it was evident that she was heavily water-logged. Her bow was deep under water, only her stern appearing above the surface. On the poop rail had been hung a shirt, the white gleam of which might have been the distress signal referred to in the message of the Marie-Rose. The Miami slowed up as she neared the derelict to survey the wreck. Suddenly there came an order,
"Clear away both cutters! Lively now, lads!"
The men sprang to stations at the word.
"Lower away together! Easy now! Let go all!"
And with the routine of clockwork two of the Miami's boats were in the water and off for the derelict. The sea was choppy but not high, and the water-logged bark lay so heavily that she scarcely moved. The waves came up and dashed over her almost like a rock. One of the second lieutenants, who was in charge of the large boat, was first to round the derelict. From the lee side, he pointed with his finger.
"There must be somebody aboard her," said Eric, rightly guessing the meaning of the gesture. Then, noting the manner in which the other boat kept away, he realized that the wreckage was on that side. Wrenching the tiller round, he called,
"Back starboard!"
The boat spun round like a top, sweeping right under the vessel's stern.
"Give way to starboard! Easy port!"
The boat slid up alongside the derelict as though coming to a landing place. The men trailed their oars, the bow oar grappled with a boat-hook and Eric leaped for the poop rail of the vessel, and swung himself aboard. The deck was pitched forward at an angle of 30 degrees, but evidently the vessel had floated in that condition for some time, for a sort of barricade had been made, with the right angle of the half-sunk cabin companion hatchway as a base, and on this three bodies were lying. A keg of water and a maggoty ham—the latter exposed to the full sunlight of the tropics—was all the food in sight.