"Charley's," said Jordan with a little laugh. "No need to worry over him. He'd fetch her through a gale of wind when he got hungry, but I'm kind of anxious about Montreal and the other one. You and the lads had to row?"
"They're played out, but they pulled quite handy," said Stickine.
Jordan swung round and glanced at Appleby, who leaned against the mast with flushed face and heaving chest, while Niven sat close by on the hatch still gasping heavily.
"I don't know that we've any use for you just now," he said. "You can get your tea from Brulée and crawl down below."
The lads did not want telling twice, and when they sat down with a steaming can of tea before them in the stuffy, curiously-smelling hold Appleby's face relaxed and Niven laughed.
"I'd never have believed I could be glad to get back to a place like this once, but I am," he said. "In fact, I scarcely fancy I was ever so glad to see anything in my life as I was when we got the first glimpse of the Champlain."
Appleby nodded with his mouth full. "I wasn't sorry myself," he said. "Now, it seems to me it isn't the ship but the men you sail with that makes all the difference when you go to sea."
He turned and saw Donegal grinning at him. "An' that's thrue," said he. "Ye will not as a rule make men glad to work for ye by kicking them."
CHAPTER XII
PICKING UP THE BOATS