While we gazed, a string of flags fluttered from her yard-arm. I dived below for the code and soon read the signal for help. They were sinking.
Trunnell turned out on deck, and we waited to see if Captain Thompson would give the word to do anything. He stood near the rail and gazed through his glass without saying anything or exhibiting any concern whatever for the people we could now see upon the stranger's high poop.
Then he turned to the mate and asked:—
"What does he want, Trunnell?"
"Want's us to stand by him, I reckon," the mate replied.
"Can we do it without danger in this seaway, hey?" demanded Thompson. "Answer me that. How the devil can we do anything for a fellow in this seaway, when we might be rammed by him and sink ourselves?"
"We'll stand by that ship as long as she's above water," answered
Trunnell, quietly.
Then came a sudden change upon the captain. He turned upon the mate quickly, and his bright, glinting eyes seemed to grow to sharp points on either side of his hooked nose, which worked and twitched under the excitement. His hand went behind his back and he jerked forth a long revolver.
"Who's captain of this here boat, Mr. Trunnell, me or you?" said he, in his drawling voice.
"You," answered Trunnell, decisively.