“And my name is Guest. I am master of the brigantine Fray Sentos, of Sydney, lying just round the point, and this is Mr. Drake, my supercargo.”
“Sit down here on the skylight, gentlemen, out of the way of the glass—my cabin is very small.”
“Guess it would have to be a pretty big one if you had another two men like yourself to share it,” said Guest with a laugh, as he surveyed our new friend's proportions. And indeed he was right, for Yorke was over six feet in height, rather stout, and with a chest like a working bullock. His face and neck were deeply bronzed to a dark tan, and presented a striking and startling yet pleasing contrast to his snowy-white hair, moustache, and eyebrows; his clear, steely blue eyes were in consonance with the broad, square jaw, and the man's character revealed itself in his features—strong, courageous, dominant, and self-reliant.
The moment Captain Guest mentioned that our men were thirsty and would like a drink of water, Yorke became the soul of hospitality, and told them to come on board and help themselves, while for Guest and myself he produced a couple of bottles of excellent Tennant, and took a glass of it himself.
“Now, do you know, gentlemen,” he said as he sat down on the cutter's rail, facing us, “this morning I had a dream? I thought I heard some one call out, 'All ready there, for'ard?' and I heard the rattle of a cable through the hawse-pipes. Then I woke and looked at the clock—it was just half-past seven.”
“And at half-past seven we let go anchor, a good four miles from here. Surely you could not have heard us at such a distance.”
“No, that's a fact. So, when I did hear you hail just now I knew my dream was verified. As a rule, dreams aren't worth a bag of shakings.”
“Where are your crew, captain?” I asked.
“Ah, now I've a yarn to tell you. I'm the only man on board—my mate and every man of my crew were massacred about six weeks ago off the north end of New Ireland, and I only escaped by the skin of my teeth. And now you can guess the meaning of all this glass on the deck. There's plenty of niggers all around us here, and that broken glass is a splendid protection for me at night time. Since I lost my men they have made two attempts to cut me off at night time, once at a place just the other side of Cape St. George and once near here. But,” and he laughed softly, “they didn't stay on deck more than five seconds, I can assure you. I'll tell you the whole yarn presently. But say, captain—can you help me to a new rudder? I lost mine a week ago, and having a bad hand have not been able to do anything towards making one myself.”
“Certainly I will. I'll send my carpenter to you as soon as we get back to the ship; or, better still, we'll tow you down to the Fray Bentos. But we are in want of water and firewood, and I should like to take some of both back with me.”