Evidently the schooner’s deep list betrayed her distress; for when the day had fully broken, a boat was pushed off from the landing-place and rowed rapidly towards her.
“Here’s the first!” muttered Skipper Bill. “I’ll warn him well.”
He hailed the occupant, a fisherman with a simple, good-humoured face, who hung on his oars and surveyed the ship.
“Keep off, there!” shouted the skipper. “We 271 need no man’s help. I warn you an’ your mates fair not to come aboard. You’ve no right here under the law so long as there’s a man o’ the crew left on the ship, and I’ll use force to keep you off.”
“You’re not able to get her off, sir,” said the fisherman, rowing on, as if bent on boarding. “She’s a wreck.”
“Billy,” the skipper ordered, “get forward with a gaff and keep him off.”
With that the fisherman turned his punt about and made off for the shore.
“Aye, aye, Billy!” he called, good-naturedly. “I’ll give you no call to strike me.”
“He’ll come back with others,” the skipper remarked, gloomily. “’Tis a bad lookout.”
“We’ll try to haul her off with the punt,” suggested Archie.