"Will you not make for Diamond Island, sir?" asked Mellish, the first mate.
"By all means," said the captain, "if we are able to make for anything. But, my good fellow," dropping his voice, "we must take our chance of getting anywhere. In this crowd we cannot hold out long, neither can we pick and choose our course. We can practically only drift, and keep up our hearts."
"We are nearly sure to be met by some ship going into Rangoon," said Mellish, speaking with more certainty than he felt.
"There is a light on the Krishna Shoal, if we could reach that," said Kershaw, the third mate. "I was in Rangoon on my first voyage, and remember it; a thing like the devil on three sticks instead of two."
A laugh followed this description of the lighthouse which all the old salts knew.
"Ay, my lad," said the captain cheerily, "we'll make for your three-legged devil, and let him take the hindmost."
"Zur," said old Wills, touching his forelock, "there'm a lot of spars and timbers afloat, would it not be best to try and draw enough in to make a catamaran, like az we used to be teached to make for a pinch when I wor in the navy?"
"A catamaran!" exclaimed young Kershaw. "Why, man, what good would that be so far to sea? You may see them by the dozen off shore, but how do you propose to make one here?"
"From timber-heads and greenhorn, zur," replied the old fellow very demurely.