“Then take him up in your arms and drop him overboard,” suggested Leslie. “And you, there, in the boat, stand by to pick him up. He’ll have sense enough to swim to you.”
So said, so done; Miss Trevor watching the apparently somewhat heartless operation with tightly clasped hands. Leslie’s conjecture as to the creature’s sagacity was fully justified; for upon finding himself in the water the dog at once began to paddle feebly toward the boat, and in less time than it takes to tell of it a couple of men had seized him and dragged him into the boat, in the bottom of which he lay shivering and panting, and rolling his great trustful eyes from one to the other of his rescuers.
After this there was little more that the carpenter could do on board. It was impossible for him to pass along the main deck from the poop to the forecastle, for the sea was sweeping that part of the derelict so continuously and in such volume that, had he attempted any such thing, he must inevitably have been washed overboard. Nor could he, for the same reason, enter the poop cabin from the main deck; but he peered down into it through the opening in the deck that had once formed the skylight; and presently he swung himself down into it and disappeared from view. Meanwhile the brig, being buoyant, was settling rapidly to leeward, and soon drifted out of hailing distance. In about ten minutes from the time of his disappearance the carpenter was seen to climb up out of the cabin on to the deck and beckon to the men in the boat, who at once paddled cautiously up alongside; when, watching the roll of the hull and the heave of the boat alongside, Chips seized a favourable opportunity and lightly sprang into the smaller craft. The men in her at once shoved off and, pulling her bows round, gave way for the brig, the carpenter carefully watching the run of the sea as he sat in the stern-sheets and steered.
“Here they come!” exclaimed Leslie, watching them. “Lay aft here, men—all hands of you—and stand by to sway away as soon as they have hooked on. See that those tackles are well overhauled—give them plenty of scope to come and go upon!”
Coming down before wind and sea, the boat took but a few minutes to traverse the distance between the derelict and the brig; and presently, slipping close past under the stern of the latter, she rounded-to in the “smooth” of the brig’s lee, and shot up alongside. As she did so, the man who pulled “bow,” and Chips, respectively made a lightning-like dash for the bow and stern tackles, which they simultaneously got hold of and hooked into the ring-bolts, flinging up their arms as a signal to those on board to haul taut. Meanwhile the remaining two hands in the boat laid in their oars and, rising to their feet, cleverly sprang into the main chains as the brig gave a heavy lee-roll.
“Haul taut fore and aft, my hearties,” shouted Leslie, balancing himself on the lee rail and grasping a backstay, as he anxiously watched the dancing boat. “Out you come, Chips, and you also, Tom. Capital! Now, hoist away fore and aft; up with her smartly, lads, while this lee-roll is on! Good! very neatly done! Catch a turn, now, for a moment; and you, Chips, jump into her again, and pass out the dog. Take care that you don’t drop him overboard! Well done! Now hoist away again, men. Well, there; two blocks; Belay! Haul taut and make fast your gripes. Good dog, then; poor old fellow! Why you are just skin and bone, as Chips said. Never mind, old chap, your troubles are over now, and we will soon set you on your pins again. Here, steward, bring along some water for this dog—not too much to start with; and give him a little food. Now, carpenter, what were you able to make out aboard there? Fill your main-topsail, lads, and bring her to her course.”
Meanwhile, Miss Trevor was on her knees beside the dog—a magnificent black Newfoundland—patting his head, and speaking loving words to him; to which attentions the poor beast responded by whining pitifully as he licked her hands and slapped the deck feebly with his tail. When the steward brought the food and water she took them from him and herself gave them to the dog, allowing him first to drink a little, and then to take a mouthful or two of food; then another drink, and then more food, and so on, until he had taken as much as she thought good for him for a first meal.
“Well, sir,” responded the carpenter, as he turned to walk aft with Leslie, “there wasn’t much to learn aboard that there hooker beyond what you could see for yourselves from the deck of this brig. I ’low she was hove down upon her beam-ends in a squall, some time durin’ the night, most likely; and then they had to cut away her masts to right her again. Anyhow, her masts was cut away, that’s sartin’, because the lanyards of the riggin’ showed the clean cuts of the tomahawks clear enough. And I reckon that, when she was hove over, she started butt, or somethin’ o’ that sort, because she was full o’ water, and it was only her cargo—whatever it may ha’ been—that kept her afloat. She’d been a fine ship in her time, her cabin bein’ fitted up most beautiful wi’ lookin’ glasses and white-and-gold panels, velvet cushions to the lockers, and a big table o’ solid mahogany, to say nothin’ of a most handsome sideboard wi’ silver-plated fittin’ up agin’ the fore bulkhead. Then, on each side of the main cabin, there was a row of fine sleepin’ berths—six on side—and four others abaft the after bulkhead, all of ’em fitted up good enough for a hemperor. But there weren’t nobody in ’em, in course; they and the main cabin bein’ up to a man’s waist in water, all loppin’ about wi’ the roll o’ the ship, and fine cushions and what not floatin’ about fore and aft and athwartships. I couldn’t find no papers nor nothin’ worth bringin’ away wi’ me—unless it were the aneroid, tell-tale, and clock what was fixed to the coamin’s where the skylight had been, and I couldn’t unship none o’ them without tools; but the tell-tale and the clock bore the name o’ Flying Eagle—Philadelpy; that I take to be the name an’ port o’ registry o’ the craft.”
“No doubt,” agreed Leslie. “And how long do you think the craft had been as you found her?”
“Well, not so very long, sir, I should say,” answered Chips. “Everything looked fairly fresh aboard of her; the paintwork weren’t noways perished-like wi’ the wash of the water, and the polish on the mahogany was pretty nigh as good as a man could wish; but the cushions was certingly a good bit sodden. I should say, sir, as he’d been desarted a matter o’—well, perhaps three or four days.”