"Or you can go to my cabin," put in the second eagerly. "Sorry I 'aven't any 'airpins," he added with an admiring glance at the tawny mane of hair which had become unfastened during her passage from the boat to the ship's deck. "But I've a——"
"The young lady'll find better accommodation in my cabin, Smith," interrupted the mate. "This way, please," he added in the tone and manner of a shop-walker, and departed with his prize.
"Talk about nerve," muttered the disgruntled Smith. "That Yank's got more bloomin' nerve than a peddlin' auctioneer."
Calamity had sent word that, as soon as the survivors had been given food and dry clothes, they were to be brought into his cabin. Half an hour later, the man was ushered in by the mate and stood in front of the Captain with the same hang-dog air that he had exhibited when first rescued.
"Your name and all the rest of it, my man," said the skipper curtly.
"I'm Jasper Skelt, bos'n of the barque Esmeralda, London to Singapore," answered the fellow in a surly voice. "We were hit by that there typhoon and so far's I know she's at the bottom of the sea by now."
"What about the Captain and the rest of the crew?"
"The skipper was knocked overboard by a boom. Then the crew took to the boats and only me and Miss Fletcher, the Cap'n's daughter, was left. We tried to keep the ship head-on to the seas, but she sprang a leak and we had to abandon her."
"You don't know whether any of the other boats survived?"
"No, sir."