“He is a rare brave un,” put in Moggridge. “I’ve sailed with him man and boy for many a v’y’ge afore this, and I allers found him the same, calm and plucky in danger, and keeping a stiff upper lip when in perils that frighten other folk. Captain Miles, sir, is a man as a sailor should be proud to sail under—that’s what I says!”
“Eh, what, what?” murmured the captain, half waking up on hearing his name spoken, and lifting his head from between his clasped hands.
“I was a-saying, sir, as how you knew what’s what,” replied the boatswain, “and I don’t know of any other man I’d say sich of.”
“Belay that,” said Captain Miles, rousing up now and rubbing his eyes. “Ah, it’s morning, I see! Well, Mr Marline, and how goes it?”
“As well as can be expected under the circumstances,” answered the other.
“Bother circumstances,” rejoined the captain; “we must make the best of them we can. Now, let us see what’s to be done.”
“Do you think we can right her, sir?” asked the mate repeating his old query.
“Right her? yes, certainly, if we can cut away the masts. She’s not water-logged, and all sound below, I fancy, as far as I can see; for the hatches have been battened down since Monday.”
“But she’s rather down by the head, sir,” said Mr Marline, as the two rose on their feet and proceeded to look round the vessel as well as they could from the top of the poop bulwarks, whence they surveyed her position and surroundings.
“Ah!” exclaimed Captain Miles, “the fore-peak must have been left open when those spare sails were got out, so that she has taken in some water there. Never mind, though, there’s a stout bulkhead separating the compartment from the main hold, and, if there’s no leak below, we’ll be all right.”