It was Tim Stubbs, who had come thus tardily to our relief, and I dare venture to say he was never before greeted so warmly or heartily.
Both us lads ran toward him, laying hold of his garments before he could descend the ladder, as if we feared he might reconsider his purpose of paying us a visit.
“Had quite a long spell of standin’ watch, eh, boys?” he cried, cheerily, glancing quickly around, to make certain all was well.
“We’ve been here all day, and the cooks have even forgotten to bring the prisoners’ supper. What is the matter?” I cried, impatiently.
“I reckon the Britishers can hold on till night before they howl for another feed.”
“Isn’t it dark yet?” Simon asked, in surprise.
“Dark, lad? No, nor it won’t be for three or four hours. The crew have just been served with dinner. I got through with my share of the grub first, an’ slipped down here without orders, to see how you was comin’ on.”
“What has happened that you’ve been kept waiting so long for something to eat?” Simon cried, and I began to despair of getting any information from this sailor, who had stood our friend ever since we recovered from the attack of homesickness and seasickness.
“First an’ foremost, the wind got up a bit, all in a jump, an’ we had a lively job gettin’ the old hooker snugged down to it. Then we’d no more’n—”
“Have we run into another gale?” Simon interrupted.