CHAPTER XXXII
On the evening of the eleventh day, after leaving the Coen, the cutter let go her anchor at a spot about a mile from the wreck of the old Dutch ship, and Gerrard prepared to go on shore, for he meant to walk to the station that night. He had now so completely recovered from both the bullet wound and the slash inflicted by Aulain's whip, that Lowry declared he looked all the better for what he had gone through.
“Well, I should not grumble, I suppose, Lowry,” said his passenger, as he surveyed his features in the cabin mirror over the captain's table, “but it is enough to make any one swear. Just as I was getting rid of the alligator beauty marks on one side of my face, I get a thundering slash on the other, which will take another three months to get tanned up to the rich, soiled leather hue of the rest of my hide.”
As he was speaking, Tommy put his black face down through the open skylight, and said that he could see a camp fire on shore—just above the landing-place.
“It must be some one from the station, Lowry,” cried Gerrard, as he and the captain came on deck, and as he spoke, there came a coo-e-e! from the shore. It was Jim's voice. He answered at once.
Bidding the mate hang a riding light on the forestay, Lowry got his night glasses, and turned them upon the fire.
“There are four people, Mr Gerrard, with six or seven horses. Ah, they are rigging a tent. I suppose it is a party from the station. They must have seen us before dark, and have come to meet you. Well, the boat is all ready for you, sir.”
In a few minutes Gerrard and Tommy were being paddled swiftly to the shore, and as they drew nearer the fire, they were able to make out the four figures as those of Kate, Mary Rayner, Jim, and a white stockman. All were busied about the tent, and as yet had not seen the boat. Then Gerrard gave a loud hail.
“Hallo there, you people!”