“Better a calm than a hurricane,” Gil replied, with a smile.
“I’m not so sure of that. The yacht can hold her own under considerably more than a capful of wind, and I had rather see her driving through the worst kind of a smother than lying here with that mob on board.”
“Mr. Jenkins, can you make out any wreckage hereabouts?” Captain Mansfield asked, lowering the glass which he had been using.
“No, sir, and that is just what has been puzzling me. I don’t understand how so many could have reached the key without some kind of a craft, and if any vessel large enough to carry such a crew had gone ashore within the past three weeks, the hull should be held by the sand.”
“It has an odd look,” the captain replied, as he walked farther aft to get a view from another point.
By this time the tender had gained the shore, and the shipwrecked party, after quarreling among themselves, made a rush for the boat.
“At least four trips will be necessary in order to get them all on board,” Jenkins suggested, and Captain Mansfield replied:
“Unless they are in a bad condition, which doesn’t appear to be the case, let them do a portion of the work. One man is enough to take the boat back, and the strangers can pull out to us.”
Gil and Nelse watched eagerly as the first load approached the yacht, and a scrutiny of the newcomers was not at all favorable to them as good specimens of sailors.
They were a thoroughly disreputable-looking set, bearing no evidences of hardship, and the boys fancied all were more or less under the influence of liquor.