"Our signal-chest was washed overboard. How does the Mozambique bear?"
"Cape St. Mary bears about two hundred miles, nor'-nor'-east."
"Thank you. What ship are you?"
All listened breathlessly.
"Her Britannic Majesty's steam-corvette the Clyde, Captain Sir Horace Seymour. How did you lose your masts?"
"A typhoon carried them away."
"A typhoon in these seas!" exclaimed the other, through his trumpet.
"Yes, sir."
"We felt nothing of it. Do you want any assistance? We can send a boat's crew, or a gang of carpenters, on board."
"No, no," replied Pedro, hastily, as hope rose in the panting hearts of those below, and curses to the lips of those above; "we have lots of spare spars."