The next instant the sturdy figure rose from the main-deck, and a shining bald head was furiously mopped within a foot of the skipper’s knees.
“Mr. Garnett,” roared the little captain, “get that port quarter boat overboard, sir, and don’t keep me waiting here all the morning. Jump, now, for I can’t abide waiting for a lazy, worthless set of loafers like your watch.”
A hoarse growling followed this order, and instantly all was noise and action on the ship. The men rushed for oars and tackles, and I was astonished at the large number of them in sight.
Above the turmoil could be heard some of Garnett’s favourite oaths, which had more power of expression than any equal number of words before put together.
The tackles were hooked on, and in another minute the boat was over the side and ready.
“Give Mr. Carter the course, but tell him to lie by until we come aboard again, and don’t keep me waiting here, but get into that boat and take me to the American clipper Arrow. Come, bear a hand there.”
“Boat’s all ready, sir,” roared the mate, as he swung himself over the rail and dropped into her stern-sheets, red in the face with exertion.
“Are the cushions in her?” inquired the skipper, looking cautiously over the rail.
“Ay, ay, sir,” came the answer.
“Is the compass and water-breaker stowed safe?”