"But haven't you heard him? It's his watch below, and most likely he's sound asleep and snoring. But look, here's a sight for you."
Rapidly bearing down towards us was a huge liner, her graceful hull glistening in the sunlight as she thrashed her way through the water. As she drew nearer we could see her decks crowded with passengers, who were regarding, doubtless with considerable curiosity, our little strangely rigged craft as she ploughed her way over the rollers.
We dipped our ensign, and in reply the liner's flag was slowly lowered and as slowly rehoisted, and twenty minutes later she was a mere speck on the horizon.
Soon afterwards the rescued yachtsman appeared' on deck, assisted by Johnston, and, making his way towards us, warmly thanked my father for saving his life. "You certainly were in a bit of a pickle," remarked my pater, offering him a deck-chair and producing his cigar-case. "Let's hear all about it, for, with pardonable curiosity, I am eager to learn the facts of the case."
"With pleasure, Mr. Trevena. You see, I obtained your name from the steward, and have gathered some particulars about the 'Fortuna.' But to proceed to the story of my adventures. My name is Arthur Conolly, by profession I am a doctor of medicine, by choice I would be a yachtsman, for the sea always had a strong attraction for me. When at home I live in Dublin—or 'dear dirty Dublin,' as my compatriots fondly term it—but on every suitable opportunity I cruise around the British Isles in my three-tonner 'Sea Shell,' or rather, I should say, I cruised, for my snug little craft is unfortunately at the bottom of the sea.
"On Monday last I left Wexford Harbour, intending to fetch Falmouth and thence by easy stages round the Solent, where I have invariably spent the months of July and August during the past seven years. The 'Sea Shell' is, or was, a modern type of boat, with spoon bow and short counter, and a short keel. She had a watertight cockpit, and was in every way fitted for single-handed work, except for one thing: she would not lie hove-to without constant attention, a fault which the older type of straight-stemmed boats never possessed; and that defect was the cause of my misfortune.
"All went well till I had reeled off a hundred and sixty miles by the log and had sighted the Wolf on my port bow. The glass had been very irregular during the last twelve hours, but just before nightfall it came on to blow hard from the north-west. Knowing I was in the vicinity of the dangerous Scilly Islands, I bore up to the south'ard, intending to give them a wide berth before heading up Channel, but about two in the morning the squalls were so frequent and violent that I threw out a sea-anchor.
"Daylight showed that I was within five miles of St. Agnes, and the wind having veered to the north'ard I knew that I was comparatively safe and was in no danger of being cast ashore, though the shift of wind had knocked up a nasty cross-sea.
"However, for six hours the 'Sea Shell' rode to the sea-anchor, but about noon, while I was down below having something to eat, the yacht's motion became so erratic, and such heavy seas tumbled on her decks, that I knew something had gone wrong.
"Upon going on deck, I found, to my horror, that the riding-rope of the sea-anchor had chafed through, and consequently, the anchor being lost, the yacht was aimlessly tossing in the crested seas. Only one thing remained to be done: to show the merest spread of canvas and try and gain the shelter of the land. I managed, although I was frequently up to my waist in water, to hoist the reefed foresail, and, the yacht's head having been paid off, I thereupon began to set the close-reefed mainsail. Hardly had I hoisted the throat than an extra strong squall struck the boat, and in a moment the mainsail had burst right along the dentre-cloths. Nevertheless I set the storm-jib, and by dint of careful nursing I managed to keep a small amount of way on, though every time the 'Sea Shell' rose on the crest of a wave she was nearly knocked on her beam ends by the force of the wind.