“Not very long, I suspect,” answered Mildmay. “He probably got cast away in the gale that we had two days ago.”
Five minutes later the engines of the Flying Fish were stopped; and presently, when she had sufficiently lost her way, one of the boats was lowered, and Sir Reginald and Mildmay went away in her. There was no beach to speak of on the island, and it was so exceedingly small that the swell ran right round it, making the beaching of the boat both a difficult and a dangerous matter. The castaway, however—there was but one—solved the difficulty by watching his opportunity and rushing down into the water after a retreating wave and flinging himself and a bundle into the boat before the on-rush of the next sea came.
He was an elderly man, rather tall, slim of build, and somewhat cadaverous of feature, with light straw-coloured hair and goatee beard that was fast changing to white. He appeared to be about fifty years of age, and was a Yankee from the crown of his hatless head to the soles of his salt-stiffened boots.
“Thank ’e, strangers,” he gasped, as he scrambled in over the bows of the boat and recovered possession of the bundle that he had flung in ahead of him. “That’s all right. I guess you can shove off now.”
“Are you alone, then?” demanded Sir Reginald, as he sent the boat’s engines astern.
“Yes, sirree, I’m as much alone as I ever want to be. I, Silas Barker, am the sole survivor of the wreck of the fore-and-aft schooner Amy Pelham, of which I was owner and master. My crew consisted of seven hands besides myself, and every one of ’em is gone to his long home. How I managed to escape is a solemn mystery; for when the schooner struck I was knocked down and stunned by the first sea that broke over her, and I knew no more until I woke up and found myself lyin’ on the shore of that lonely spot, clutchin’ the grass with both hands, and the water washin’ up round me and tryin’ to claw me off ag’in.”
“And when did this happen, Mr Barker?” demanded Mildmay.
“Two days ago,” answered Barker. “And I don’t mind admittin’ to you gentlemen that they have been the longest two days I ever spent. Seems to me a good deal nearer like two months. To be two days alone, ashore in the country, is nothin’ more than a mere pleasant change; but to be two days alone on a bit of earth hardly big enough to build a house upon—whew! I don’t want no more of ’em!”
“And did you see nothing more of any of your crew when you came to yourself after being washed ashore?” asked Sir Reginald.
“Nary one of ’em,” answered Barker. “Sharks got ’em, most likely; and I only wonder they didn’t get me, too. But, I say, mister, what sort of a steamer do you call this of yourn? Darn my ugly buttons, but she’s the all-firedest queer-lookin’ packet that I ever set eyes on. And what may you be doin’ down in these here latitoods?”