"Just to save old man Hobbs's dollars, eh? Poor little lass, eh?" the Skipper grunted.
"Partly that and partly because he is such a handsome, dare-devil scoundrel, that I don't think she'd be unwilling;" and Hoffman moaned and buried his face in his hands. He was still as weak as a rat, and couldn't control his feelings.
"Poor little soul!" the Skipper said softly. "God help us to get her out of his clutches!"
At about five bells (2.30 p.m.) in the afternoon we eventually sighted the island, a low irregular line on the horizon right ahead, a gloomy enough prison under its dark sullen banks of rain clouds. The wind had gone down during the morning watch, and the sea was fairly smooth, but the rain still came down mercilessly, and everything was dripping with moisture and extremely uncomfortable. "Masthead lookout!" roared the Skipper from the fore bridge, "keep your eye lifting for two steamers lying under the land," and to assist him sent up the sharpest eyed signalman.
In spite of the drenching downpour, the fo'c'stle and under the fore bridge was crowded with men, all their eyes glued on the land as we very slowly forged towards it through the muddy yellow water. I don't suppose that there was a single field glass or telescope in the ship not in use.
Then there came a yell from the masthead which made us all look up. "Yes, sir, I can see them—two steamers under the land, right ahead, sir;" and we all stared ahead, and in a few minutes could see them ourselves, and, quite without orders, everyone cheered and waved his cap, looking up at the Skipper from the fo'c'stle to see whether he was looking happy. The cheers were as much for sighting the steamers as for knowing that now "Old Lest" would have a chance of paying off old scores, and the Skipper, looking bigger than ever in his dripping tarpaulins, roared out to ask me if I'd ever been aboard a man-of-war before, and knew what discipline was; so I sent my midshipman down to stop the noise.
"Umph! Truscott, we've got 'em at last;" and he slowly dug his fingers into the palms of his hands, as if he was crushing something, glared at me, and shook them in my face.
We slowly steamed along, till we took soundings under six fathoms, and then anchored. "Can't go in any farther," I heard Hoffman tell Lawrence, and again wondered how he had picked up all this knowledge.
The cable had scarcely finished rattling out before the Skipper, turning to me, said, "Man and arm boats, Commander; I'll go in directly. Old Lest ain't going to let grass grow under his feet."
"We've only got about two hours more daylight, sir," I told him, thinking that there was scarcely time for the boats to get ashore.