“Are you a portion of the crew of the Dolphin, British cruiser, which foundered last night?”
“We are,” I answered, very much surprised at the question, and wondering how in the world he came to know anything about the Dolphin and her having foundered.
“Then,” said he, “you will be gratified to learn that we have already picked up twenty-six of your company which we discovered about three miles to leeward, floating on a portion of the ship’s deck; and it was in consequence of the representations made to my captain by one of your officers picked up by us that an examination of the sea was made from our mastheads, resulting in your discovery. But I will not waste time by entering into further explanations at present; have I the honour of addressing the captain of the Dolphin?”
“I was her commanding officer,” I replied; “and I thank you greatly for the pleasing intelligence you have so promptly afforded us. How many of us can you take at once?”
“I am afraid we dare not venture alongside with more than twelve in addition to the boat’s crew; the swell is still very heavy. Will you have the goodness to tell off that number for our first trip?”
I called out the names of the men, one by one, as the boat was brought cautiously alongside the raft, and in a few minutes her complement was complete.
“Adieu, Señor Lascelles,” said the young officer, raising his hat again as he shoved off; “we will not leave you in your present uncomfortable position one moment longer than is absolutely necessary.”
I mechanically returned the salute, again wondering where he had picked up my name, until it occurred to me that he must have heard it mentioned by some of the party taken off the floating deck. The news that our loss was not as heavy by twenty-six as I had supposed it to be was intensely gratifying, and my spirits rose under its influence to a pitch of almost extravagant hilarity. Twenty-eight poor fellows still remained unaccounted for, and they had undoubtedly gone down with the schooner; but the loss was, after all comparatively trifling, taking into consideration the suddenness and completeness of the disaster, and I was inexpressibly thankful that matters had turned out to be no worse.
The boat was soon alongside again for a second moiety of my companions in misfortune, and a third trip sufficed to clear the raft of its living occupants, I, of course, as in duty bound, being the last to leave the clumsy structure which had served us in such good stead.
As I sat beside the young lieutenant in the stern-sheets of the boat during our journey to the ship—which occupied about a quarter of an hour, she having drifted considerably to leeward during the process of transhipment—he asked a few questions which elicited from me the leading particulars of our mishap; and having learned these he informed me that his ship, the Santa Catalina, had sailed four days previously from Cartagena for Cadiz, that she, like ourselves, had been caught in the hurricane, from which, however, she had escaped with only the damage to her spars already referred to. As we approached the ship’s side near enough to discern the crowd of curious faces peering at us over the lofty bulwarks, my new friend remarked with a peculiar smile: