“Yes; just get out of the way, sir. There, be smart ahead there. Be ready to let go the anchor when I cry let go.”
As he spoke he gave the man he had placed for the time at the wheel an impatient look, took the spokes in hand himself, ran the vessel in towards the shore, then gave the word; there was a dull splash, the chain rattled out through the hawse-holes, and was stopped; the sails flapped and shivered in the gentle breeze, and the schooner softly swung round, with a motion hardly perceptible, till she lay with her head to the current, now so slow that its effects on the vessel could hardly be seen.
“Is this the place, then?” cried Mr Parkley, eagerly, as he ran to peer over the side, where half the men were already similarly engaged.
“No ’taint,” said Sam, crossly, as he let go the spokes, and, taking off his straw hat, began scratching his bald head in a vicious way. “It’s somewhere about here, but the bearings is altered. There was four tall cocoanut trees on a bluff, and you had to bring them in a line with a bit o’ rock sticking out o’ the water like a wet monkey, and they’re gone.”
“But are you sure this was the piece of coast line?” said the captain, rather sternly.
“Course I am. This is one of the places, and there’s two more—one on ’em ashore, ’bout fifty miles from here.”
“Had we not better try that first?” said Dutch.
“What’s the good o’ your talking like that, sir, when you’ve brought diving things o’ purpose to go down? No, I ain’t half done yet. Here, I’ve finished my bacco; some ’un lend me a bit.”
The mate handed him some, and Sam stood staring about, while the men were evidently laughing at his failure.
“Think, Mass’ Oakum, sah—”