The effect of the first stroke of the starboard oars, after the order was given, was to throw the head of the barge to port. A few more pulls brought the boat into the trough of the sea; but it remained in that position only an instant.
"Port oars!" continued Dick. "Hold water! Stern all!"
The port oarsmen backed water as the starboard rowers gathered up their blades, so that no confusion occurred, and in less than half a minute the Marian was headed up to the sea, with her stem within a few feet of the sloop.
"On the port, oars!" At this command, the oarsmen indicated lay upon their oars again, and seemed as unmoved as though they had been in the school-room, and not one of them looked behind him.
All the crew had obtained a single glance at the interior of the Silver Moon the moment before the barge began to swing around; but this was all they knew about the sloop, except what they had heard the coxswain say.
"Stand by, all, to lay on your oars!" called Dick, as coolly as though nothing was the matter with the Silver Moon, and her passengers were in a frolic rather than in mortal peril. "Oars!" And every blade was poised and feathered on a level above the water.
"Bowman, stand by with the boat-hook!" continued Dick. "One stroke! Give way!"
This single stroke brought the bow up near enough to the sloop to enable the bowman to fasten the boat-hook to the gunwale of the helpless craft. The crew lay upon their oars, ready to obey the next order, but not one of them manifested the slightest interest in the Silver Moon, so far as any look or movement was concerned. Paul Bristol was excited and uneasy, and once he was on the point of standing up to get a better view of the interior of the sloop. But he remembered the order of the coxswain in season to restrain himself.
"On board the Silver Moon!" shouted the coxswain, but not louder than was necessary to make the skipper hear him above the noise of the wind and the water. "What is the matter?"