“Now, then, what does a fellow do in cases like this?” exclaimed Don, who was at sea in more respects than one.
“Take the boy below and put him to bed,” commanded Egan. “Pull off those wet clothes, give him a good rubbing to set his blood in motion, and then cover him up warmly and let him go to sleep. I suppose his father is among those whom you and Lester took off the wreck?”
“I think he is, and his mother too,” replied Enoch, who was wringing the water out of his coat.
“His mother!” cried Egan.
“Yes. The first one we took off was a lady.”
“Who are they, and where did they come from?”
“Haven’t the shadow of an idea. I don’t know the name of their vessel, or whether or not any of the crew were lost. The lady was insensible, and the men were not much better off.”
“Then we must run for a doctor!” exclaimed Mack.
“You can’t get to one any too quick,” answered Enoch. “But first, you had better send somebody off to take charge of that schooner. Jones is at the wheel, and he can’t handle her in this wind.”
Captain Mack lost no time in acting upon this suggestion. While the Idlewild was taking up a position on the Sylph’s starboard quarter, her small boat, which had been housed on deck, was put into the water, half the squad, six of whom were capable of managing the schooner, were sent off to take charge of the prize, and the majority of the deserters were transferred to the Idlewild. Bert Gordon, who was the only non-commissioned officer in the squad, commanded the Sylph, but Burgess sailed her. All this work was done as soon as possible, and when it was completed the two vessels filled away for the nearest village, the Idlewild leading the way. During the run the deserters fraternized with their captors, and many interesting and amusing stories of the cruise were told on both sides. The former were treated as honored guests instead of prisoners, and Mack and his men praised them without stint.