“But we want help; and there is a great deal of hard work to be done,” continued Mr. Frisbone. “How many hands have you in your boat?”
“Ten besides Mr. Rimmer.”
“If they are good stout hands, we may do something with them.”
“But I must report the condition of the vessel, and wait for further orders,” interposed O’Hara.
“Quite right,” added the Prince, with a smile. “I forgot that you live on your discipline.”
“But the boat came off to take you and the ladies on board the Tritonia.”
“I think we are safe enough here for the present; and I know the women-folks won’t think they can get into that boat while it is bobbing around like corn in a popper. Return to your ship, and give my respects to the captain and the old folks on board, and tell them I think the steamer can be saved.”
O’Hara tried to explain how easy it would be to get the ladies into the cutter; but Mr. Frisbone seemed to be unwilling to leave the steamer while there was a chance to save her. He conducted the young officer into the cabin, the door of which opened from the main deck.
“Here, Maggie,” said the Prince, calling to his wife, who was in her state-room. “One of the vessels of the academy squadron has come to get us out of this scrape.”
Mrs. Frisbone came out of the state-room, looking very pale and sick. She was followed by her sister the invalid, who, however, looked better than the Prince’s wife.