“Gentleman goin’ on all right, sir?” asked Bowers.
“Mr. Lestrange is still asleep, and thank God for it,” said Stanistreet, “and the child’s well. It woke and I gave it a pannikin of condensed and water and it’s in the starboard after-bunk asleep again.”
“I thought the gentleman was dead when you brought him back aboard, sir,” said Bowers. “I never did see such a traverse, them pore young things and all; we goin’ to hunt for them, as you may say, and them comin’ off to meet us like that—why, that dinghy was swep’ clean down to the bailer—no oars, nuthin—and what were they doin’ with that dinghy? Where’d they get that dinghy from’s what I want to know.”
“Curse the dinghy,” said Stanistreet. “Only for her I wouldn’t believe this thing true—but I’ve got to, there’s no getting away from it. I’ll tell you about that dinghy. It’s just like this. It belonged to a hooker that Mr. Lestrange was coming up to Frisco in long years ago. She got burnt out way down here somewhere, the boats got separated in a fog that came on them and the ship’s dinghy, with his two kids and an old sailor man, was never seen again. He never believed them dead; he’s been hunting all these years up and down the ports of the world on chance of finding news of them. He had it in his head some chap had picked them up—not a sign; then, a bit ago, a friend of mine, Captain Fountain, struck one of his advertisements, and gave news of indications he’d found on this island we’re seeking for; he’d picked up a child’s toy box, but he hadn’t made a search of the place, being after whales and knowing nothing of the story, so Mr. Lestrange, when he got the news, put the Ranatonga in commission. That’s what we started on this voyage for, and now you know.”
“How far’s that island from here, sir?” asked Bowers.
“When we struck the dinghy yesterday it was a hundred and fifty south; we’re not more than sixty from it now. We’ll reach it before noon.”
“And them pore things came driftin’, father, mother and child, a hundred and fifty mile without bite or sup?”
“God knows,” said Stanistreet, “what food they had with them. There was nothing in the boat but a bit of tree branch with a red berry on it.”
Bowers spun the wheel and shifted the quid in his mouth.
“And the child stood the batter of the business better than them,” said he. “I’ve known that happen before; kids take a lot of killing as long as the cold don’t get at them. They weren’t both his children, was they, sir?”