Hastily jumping into his clothes—for Fritz, sad to relate, could never practise early rising, in which good habit day after day Eric set him a praiseworthy example—the elder followed the younger lad again to the shore of the bay; from which point, well away out to sea, and her hull just rising from the rolling plane of water, could be seen a vessel. She was steering for the island apparently, with the wind well on her beam.
“It isn’t Captain Brown’s ship,” said Eric now decisively, his sailor eye having distinguished while she was yet in the distance that the vessel was a fore-and-aft-rigged schooner, although Fritz could not then tell what sort of craft she was. “It is one of those small whalers that ply amongst the islands, such as I saw down at Kerguelen.”
“What can have become of the skipper, then?” cried Fritz, quite disappointed. “I hope nothing has happened to him.”
“We’ll soon know,” replied Eric. “If I mistake not this very schooner, which is evidently going to call here, is the Jane. I know her by that queer patch in her jib; and, if that’s the case, she is one of the consorts of the Pilot’s Bride and will be bound to be able to tell us something about her.”
“I sincerely hope so,” said Fritz.
The two then remained silent for some time, watching the approaching vessel; but they took the precaution to run down their whale-boat to the beach, so as to be ready to put off as soon as the visitor should come near enough for them to board her.
In a short time, bowling up before a good breeze, although it seemed hours to them, they were so anxious, the schooner lay-to off the bay, hoisting her flag as a signal that she wished to communicate. But, long before the bunting had been run up to the masthead, the brothers had launched their boat and were pulling out towards the vessel, which did not anchor, for there was a heavy ground swell on—this latter, indeed, cost them, too, some trouble in getting their little craft out to sea, the rolling surge first lifting her up and then plunging her down so that everything was hidden from them for the moment by a wall of water on either side.
However, they managed to get through the waves somehow; and, presently, they were alongside the schooner,—pulling in under her stern, whence a rope was hove them to get on board by.
An active-looking, slim, seamanlike young fellow advanced to them as they scrambled on the schooner’s deck; and Eric appeared to recognise him.
“Hullo, Captain Fuller,” he said, “where’s the Pilot’s Bride and the old skipper?”