The young Swede who had been so brutally struck by Sullivan stepped up to the captain.
“Who brought us on board?” he asked.
“Dan Sullivan,” replied the mate. “He said you were his boarders. I saw him come alongside, and then I went forward, and have not seen him since.”
“Did you pay him any advance for us, captain?”
“No; I have not seen him,” said the skipper. “He must have gone on shore again. I cannot understand it. I do not know the man,” added Captain Monk. “I wrote him to get me six men, and told him I would sign them on board. I heard him come alongside with you, and when I came out of my cabin I saw no boat alongside, and we got under way at once.”
“Thank you, captain,” replied the Swede. “Sullivan and I will meet again some day.”
“Halloa, halloa! What’s all that about?” rang out from the forecastle, accompanied by a heavy thumping.
The mate started to run forward, and all hands turned, to behold a remarkable sight.
Out of the forecastle bolted three men. Casting their eyes in the direction of the land they rushed aft, past the seamen, and were about to mount the poop-ladder, when the mate barred the way.
“Get down out of this, you skunks!” he roared. “Who are you fellows, and where do you come from?”