"God bless you, Captain!" said I. "How glad I am to see you again!"
"You must have better eyes than I have. Say, Mr. Jones, where is Cynthy?"
"She's somewhere near us," said I. And then in whispers, listening for every sound, I told the Skipper what had happened as well as I could.
"My poor little Cynthy!" said the Skipper, with a half sob.
"How did they get you, Captain?" I inquired.
"They never would have had me if you had paid any attention to me. They gathered me up the very day after I waved to you, when you were up there on that cliff."
"Was that you?" I asked. "I never thought it. Cynthia did suggest it, too."
"God bless my girl!" said the Skipper, with a wet voice.
"How were we to know it was you?" said I. "You were as black as any of the blackest here."
"That's so!" said the Skipper in answer. "I forgot that."