“Will Marion!”
“Who else? Is that Josh?”
“Ahoy, lad!”
“Hurrah!” came from the boat three times, and the oars made the water flash again as they were more vigorously plied.
“That’s your sort, Master Dick!” cried Josh. “That’s Cornish, that is! They chaps is as glad at finding us as—as—as—”
“We should be at finding them,” said Will.
“Ay; that’s it!”
And so it seemed, for a few minutes more and the boat was alongside, and the wet and shivering fishers were seated in the stern-sheets, wrapped in oilskins and great-coats, their boat made fast behind, and Dick’s hand tight in that of his father, who said no word of reproach; while, after a long pull against tide, with the boat towing behind, they were landed at the head of the little harbour, where a crowd of the simple-hearted folk, many having lanthorns, saluted them with a hearty cheer, and any amount of hospitality bright have been theirs.
For these dwellers by the sea, who follow their daily toil upon the treacherous waters, are always ready with their help, to give or take in the brotherly way that has long been known in the fishing villages upon the Cornish shores.