'I can't afford to use all my matches,' said Trentham. 'Run up and cut a branch from a bush; that'll serve for a torch for the present. And signal to the others.'
'I don't hardly like to say it, sir, but I 'm afeard as my weak voice won't reach so far.'
'My good man, you 've got long arms. Wave 'em about. Climb up the mast. Use your gumption!'
Meek mounted to the deck, and Trentham smiled as he heard a husky voice shouting, 'Ahoy!' After some minutes the man returned with a thick dry branch.
'I give a hail, sir, and flung my arms about frantic, and Mr. Grinson, he seed me. I can't say he heard me, not being sure. He 've a wonderful voice himself--wonderful, and I heard him answer as clear as a bell.'
'That's all right!' said Trentham, lighting the branch. 'We 've made a discovery, Meek.'
'Seemingly, sir. I 'm fair mazed, and that's the truth of it. Who might be the old soldier yonder, and what's he wear that thing on his head for? He ain't a sea captain, that I 'll swear, and I wonder at any sailor-man sticking up a soldier's picture in his cabin.'
'You 're quite right, Meek,' replied Trentham, who had been scrutinising the portrait. 'The old soldier, as you call him, is a king.'
'You don't say so, sir! Where's his crown, then?'
'Ah, I wonder where! The poor man lost his crown and his head too. It's Louis XVI., King of France a hundred years ago and more. Here it is in French, below the engraving: "Engraved after the portrait by Champfleury." We 're in a French vessel, Meek--the ship of some French explorer, no doubt, who was wrecked here goodness knows how many years ago.'