"Nothing more than talking to himself, I guess," Sidney replied, and Captain Eph retorted:
"That's a mighty bad habit Sammy has got. You can't rightfully say that he's makin' back talk; but he chews over a lot of words that kind'er riles a man, 'specially when he hasn't really got a right to find fault. Go up an' see what you can make out, Sonny."
Sidney obeyed promptly, although feeling quite confident that he could not hope to learn anything more than Mr. Peters had already reported.
"There's trouble of some kind out yonder," the first assistant said when he handed the glasses to the lad, "an' the worst of it is, that with both Cap'n Eph an' Uncle Zenas under the weather, we've got to sit still an' see those poor fellows drift past us while we're suckin' our thumbs."
Sidney took the glasses, and after Mr. Peters had pointed out the direction in which he should look, it was possible to see now and then, as she rose on the crest of a wave, a dory in which was a mass of something which might be human beings.
"Can you see 'em?" Mr. Peters asked impatiently, after Sidney had gazed in silence several moments.
"Yes; but I'm trying to make out why you should think that dark stuff may be men."
"Because the craft must have belonged to a fisherman, Sonny, an' they don't very often let their boats go adrift. Then agin, what else could be in her but men?"
The argument was not convincing to the lad; but since there was nothing he could say against it, he returned to make his report to the keeper.
"Ay, Sammy is right," Captain Eph said thoughtfully when Sidney explained what could be seen. "It must be some poor fellows who have been blown away from their vessel while settin' trawls, or hand-line fishin'. Is the dory comin' straight for the ledge?"