Too late, the schooner luffed up, and Clyde seated himself on the rail to catch his breath. Two men came to him, and spoke in Norwegian.
“I speak English,” replied Clyde.
“You are English?” said the captain.
“Yes; I don’t speak anything else.”
“I speak English,” replied the skipper, as he went back to the helm, and Clyde followed him.
“Where are you bound?” asked the runaway.
“To Stockholm.”
“You are Danish, I suppose.”
“No, Norwegian.”
“All the same.”