“Not deals, now, or laths, or palings, or pickets, or battens, or anything of that sort?”
“I saw the timber—white pine.”
“Well, that’s better; that gives them a chance. I’ve heard say that a timber ship’ll float for years, if she’s any kind of a ship at all; and so, perhaps, this one is drifting.”
Captain Corbet shook his head.
“Why not?” asked Ferguson, noticing the movement.
“I anchored her.”
“Anchored her?”
“Yes.”
“Anchored what? The timber ship?”
“Yes.”