Roswell Gardiner waited a few minutes for the two schooners to close, and was in the very act of applying the trumpet to his mouth, when the usual salutation was sent across the water from the stranger. During the conversation that now took place, the vessels gradually drew nearer to each other, until both parties laid aside their trumpets, and carried on the discourse with the unaided voice.
"Schooner, ahoy!" was the greeting of the stranger, and a simple "Hilloa!" the answer.
"What schooner is that, pray?"
"The Sea Lion, of Oyster Pond, Long Island; bound to the southward, after seal, as I suppose you know by our outfit."
"When did you leave Oyster Pond--and how did you leave your owner, the good Deacon Pratt?"
"We sailed yesterday afternoon, on the first of the ebb, and the deacon left us as we weighed anchor. He was well, and full of hope for our luck. What schooner is that, pray?"
"The Sea Lion, of Hum'ses Hull; bound to the southward, after seals, as you probably knew by our outfit. Who commands that schooner?"
"Captain Roswell Gar'ner--who commands aboard you, pray?"
"Captain Jason Daggett," showing himself more plainly, by moving out of the line of the main-rigging. "I had the pleasure of seeing you when I was on the P'int, looking after my uncle's dunnage, you may remember, Captain Gar'ner. 'T was but the other day, and you are not likely to have forgotten my visit."
"Not at all, not at all, Captain Daggett; though I had no idea, then, that you intended to make a voyage to the southward so soon. When did you leave the Hole, sir?"