“Yer left,” said Feeny dispassionately. “Like us, yer left,—for the captain's gone with his crew. I'd recommend you lifted the large armchair off the stomach of the fat gentleman on the floor in the corner, he's breathing hard and quite purple,” and Mr. Feeny having thus delivered himself, withdrew with his mates.
“'Twas a shame for the captain to leave 'em. I hope he drowns...” said Feeny. “For duty's duty,—which reminds me that I'm the oldest man in the stoke-hole with more tons of coal to my credit than you'll equal even if you're given length of days, so I'll serve notice on ye, one and all,—I'm skipper!”
A wan light was lifting out of the east. It spread over the tossing seas and under the low ragged clouds that the gale sent hurrying into the south.
“There's land!” cried Mr. Feeny. Peering through the saline reek of the storm, they saw first a narrow spit of land, and here and there a stunted palmetto. Then as the light spread, higher ground, dense with a tropic growth; while beyond was the sea again, a long restless line of blue that backed against the horizon.
Mr. MacCandlish and his friends issued from the saloon and worked their way along the bulwark to the group of stokers.
“Well?” said the millionaire, and he addressed himself to Feeny.
“I'm thinking, sir, we'd best leave the old hooker when the sea ca'ms down a bit. Yonder's one of the life-boats hanging to its davits. Presently we'll h'ist it over the side and go ashore,” said Feeny.
“Then you don't think we are in any imminent peril?” asked Mr. MacCandlish.
“That feelin' you got comes mainly from an empty stomach,” said Mr. Feeny soothingly. “Here, Tom Murphy! you see if you can get these gentlemen their breakfast.” He himself went below and accumulated a pair of trousers.
Then under his immediate direction breakfast was served in the saloon, while the stokers browsed about the forward deck. With hot coffee life took on a changed aspect; also Mr. Feeny's assured manner and the close proximity of the island combined to contribute their measure of hope to the minds and hearts of all. It was mid-morning, however, before Mr. Feeny declared it was not too great a hazard to attempt a landing, and to his “Easy, Murphy... easy, I say, Tom Murphy... Easy!” in a rising crescendo, the boat dropped into the water.