"It's the Stranger, sir! I can tell her among a million!" replied the second mate, no less delighted than his captain.
"Breakfast is on, sir," announced the steward.
Frank did not want any, but he made a show of eating nevertheless. He drank a cup or two of a decoction of parched beans which the steward called coffee, swallowed a few mouthfuls of salt horse and hard-tack, and then hurried on deck to tell the officer on watch to see one of the boats clear for lowering, and to have a crew, whom he mentioned by name, ready to pull him off to the schooner. After that he gave his black suit a good overhauling; but it had seen pretty hard service before he drew any clothing from the slop-chest, and he decided that it would not do to put on. Then he took a look at himself in the little mirror that was screwed fast to one of the bulkheads in the cabin, and told himself that Boson was a beauty compared to him.
"Well, what's the difference?" thought Frank. "If any of those boys had been in my boots they would look just as rough and weather-beaten as I do."
With this reflection to console him Frank hurried on deck again, and taking the glass Lucas offered him, levelled it at the schooner, which was now close aboard. Almost the first man he saw was Dick Lewis. Frank's heart leaped at the sight of him. He had supposed that the two trappers were safe in the mountains long before this time, but now he would have a chance to shake them by the hand once more before he bade them good-by for ever. He wondered how they had conquered their fears sufficiently to venture out to sea. He saw Uncle Dick Gaylord and his two officers on the quarter-deck, and the Club gathered in the waist, every one of them with his field-glass in his hand.
"Of course they will recognise the ship, but they will never know me in this dress," thought Frank. "And I don't think they'll be able to make much out of my hail either."
Frank kept out of sight until the ship's main yard was backed and the schooner thrown up into the wind; then he showed himself.
"What ship is that?" yelled a stentorian voice, that Frank could have recognised anywhere.
"The whale ship Eli Coon, Hank Wilson master. Seventeen months out of Nantucket and nine hundred barrels of oil in the hold. I think that bothered them a little, Mr. Gale. I see they are talking very earnestly. Is that crew ready? I'll send a boat aboard of you," he added, hailing the schooner.
"Ay, ay, sir!" answered Uncle Dick, in a tone of voice which indicated that he did not understand the matter at all.