"I see a boat to leeward, sir!"
"Where away?"
"Just abeam, beyond the steamer"
I feared that his imagination had run away with him, so sent the second mate into the mizzen cross-trees with a pair of binoculars. He reported a boat sure enough to leeward—a boat with a tiny sail set.
"That accounts for it!" exclaimed Captain Potter "I forgot that leg-o'-mutton sail in the second mate's boat. But why has he used it, to run away from the steamer, when I ordered him to stand by her?"
"I'm afraid it means that he is hard pressed" I answered "He's had to run for it, in order to keep afloat. We must fill away at once. I hope we can manage to reach him in time"
While we were swinging the main yard, Captain Potter stood on the after house, alone beside the mizzen mast, watching his burning vessel. She was a splendid steamer, only a few years old. He watched her soberly. I left him to himself. After we had got the Pactolus off before the wind, with things around decks a little under control, he said good-bye to his command, as it were, turned aft, and took his place beside me on the quarterdeck.
"Can you make out the boat yet from the deck?"
"She's dead ahead. They have seen her from the forecastle"
We looked aloft. Yards were groaning, gear was cracking; under full upper-topsails the ship swept down the wind like a racehorse, fairly leaping through the water. She must have been a splendid sight to those poor fellows in the second mate's boat, waiting for her at the door of death.