"You—you—I thought—" he gasped. "The Crosby fleet——"
"Never mind them," said the captain tenderly. "We've got a mile to go yet. Take it easy."
"Where is she?"
"Who?"
"The Mary Chilton?"
"Oh—her!" disgustedly. "She's all right. So are the Crosby vessels."
"You lie! They're burned—every one of them!" He turned his head with a great effort and looked toward the paling flare of what had been the Crosby fleet.
But Captain Bert was interested in the gray sloop bearing down on them. He needed his strength, even that which he would spend in the effort of speaking.
"Bill," he nevertheless exclaimed, "can't you—grab the gun'le—yourself? My arm—it's about gone. My back——"
Bill groaned and stiffly raised one arm from the water, but it fell back heavily. Captain Bert gritted his teeth and his fingers tightened on the gunwale until it seemed that they must gouge into the wood.