“We must meet them,” said Adair, “we can't hide the boat. If they mean mischief we can take to the woods.”
In another five minutes the newcomers saw the little group and gave a loud, friendly hail. Stepping out from his companions, who followed him closely, Adair advanced to meet the strangers.
A young, swarthy-faced man, who steered, jumped out of the boat and at once addressed him. He listened with interest to Adair's story that they had escaped from a ship that had gone ashore on the coast some weeks before, and then said quietly—
“Just so. Well, I'm glad that I can assist you. I've just come from Port Jackson, and am bound to the East Indies, sperm-whaling. Come aboard, all of you, and I'll land you at one of the Dutch ports there.”
Adair's face paled. Something told him that his story was not believed. What should he do?
The captain of the whaler beckoned him aside. “Don't be alarmed. I can guess where you come from. But that doesn't concern me. Now look here. My ship—the Manhattan, of Salem—is a safer place for you than an open boat, and I'm short-handed and want men. You can all lend a hand till I land you at Amboyna or Ternate. Is that your wife?”
“Yes.”
“Well, what are you going to do—stay here or come aboard?”
“We accept your offer gladly,” answered Adair, now convinced of the American's good intentions.
“Very well; carry your wife down to the boat while my men get some gulls' eggs.”