“Ready, you’re off duty and I know you like anything like adventure, so if you want to come, get aboard.”
“Good!” exclaimed Jack. “Have you any idea what boat it is?”
“Not the least. That makes it all the more interesting. From what we can make out, though, it’s a ship’s boat of some sort.”
The big vessel almost ceased to move. Her propeller, driven by the slowly working engines, only made a ripple on the water. The boat was swung over and struck the sea with a gentle splash.
“There they are, men. Give way with a will now,” ordered Mr. Metcalf briskly.
The oars struck the water, sending serpents of phosphorescence over its dark surface. The boat moved swiftly forward toward the other craft, a small white gig apparently.
“There’s the woman,” cried Jack. “Look, she’s standing up and waving!”
“There’s a man there, too,” cried Mr. Metcalf. “Pull hard, men, the poor devils may have been drifting for days.”
“Hold on! We’re coming,” cried the colonel encouragingly, forgetting his own troubles in the sight of these two castaways of the sea.
The boats ranged alongside and the crew of the Tropic Queen’s boat seized the gunwale of the other craft, holding them together. Jack stood up and extended his arm to the young woman to aid her on board the liner’s boat.