A single plank had started away from the stern-post; that was all. Otherwise the schooner was as sound as the day she left San Francisco. Moran and Wilbur had the damage repaired by noon, nailing the plank into its place and caulking the seams with lamp-wick. Nor could their most careful search discover any further injury.
“We're ready to go,” said Moran, “so soon as she'll float. We can dig away around the bows here, make fast a line to that rock out yonder, and warp her off at next high tide. Hello! who's this?”
It was Charlie. While the two had been at work, he had come around the shore unobserved, and now stood at some little distance, smiling at them calmly.
“Well, what do you want?” cried Moran angrily. “If you had your rights, my friend, you'd be keelhauled.”
“I tink um velly hot day.”
“You didn't come here to say that. What do you want?”
“I come hab talkee-talk.”
“We don't want to have any talkee-talk with such vermin as you. Get out!”
Charlie sat down on the beach and wiped his forehead.
“I come buy one-piecee bacon. China boy no hab got.”