The old trader glanced upward, the white hair of his beard sticking out aggressively over his collar and framing his otherwise hairless face in a sort of bristling halo. I saw the young girl flash a glance of disdain at the poop and then seize the man-ropes. She sprang lightly upon the ladder and mounted rapidly to the deck, followed by the younger man, who had replied to none of the salutations and had quietly awaited events.
Yankee Dan followed and seized Hawkson’s hand, greeting him as an old friend. Then he slapped Captain Howard a rousing blow upon the back and introduced his daughter. Mr. Curtis shook hands all round, appearing to know every one, and we rightly surmised that he was the principal owner.
The vociferous trader kept talking in high good humour, being on familiar terms with Hicks, Renshaw, and the captain, and our men were anxious to hear his words, hoping to gather something in reference to our cruise. As for me, I found my attention drawn more toward the young lady, for never had I seen such perfection in womanly form or feature.
She was tall, and her figure, while not stout, had a supple fulness that spoke of great strength and grace. Her face was full and rosy, and her dark eyes were exquisitely bright, glancing quickly at a word or look. Her mouth, partly open, showed strong white teeth, and her smile was a revelation. There was nothing about her that spoke of her father save her apparent good humour and disdain for conventionalities. Her eyes were gentle, and had nothing of the fierce twinkle of the trader’s. Altogether I was so entirely taken up noting her charms that I was not aware of Mr. Gull until he came close to us and bawled out:
“Clear away the long-boat. All loafers who are tired of the sea and want a run on the beach get ready to go ashore.”
CHAPTER XI.
WE MAKE A DAY OF IT
“Did you fellers hear me?” asked Mr. Gull, coming toward Martin and the rest of us.
“Harkee, Mr. Gull,” said the Scot, “d’ye mean we can clear ef the wessel don’t suit? Is that the lay o’ it? She’s a fine ship, Mr. Gull, an’ fer me ye can lay to it. I’d never leave her, unless it’s the wish o’ the matchless officers that commands her.”
“If you drunkards ain’t aboard again by eight bells to-night, it’ll be a sorry crowd that’ll come next day,--an’ ye can lay to that, ye fine Scotchman, an’ with just as much scope as ye may care for.”
Big Jones smiled as he unbent the boat tackle. It was evident our second mate was not as big a fool as he looked, but it seemed strange we should be allowed ashore unless the captain had good reason to believe we could be back aboard again. Only a few minutes before we were planning some desperate means of reaching the beach, and now the invitation was offered to all who cared to avail themselves of the captain’s liberality.