“Aye, aye, sir! I sees it.”
“What d’ye make it out to be?” demanded the mate.
“It’s the black hulk of an open boat,” I cried, as the seaman above hesitated. I expect the rising sun half blinded him. “There’s a stump of a mast and she seems decked over forward—no! it’s an awning.”
“A ship’s boat?” cried the mate, eagerly.
“Aye, aye, sir!” came down the voice of the man in the top. “That’s what she be. And wrecked. Not a sign of life aboard her.”
“How is it, Webb?” Mr. Hollister repeated.
“I see nothing moving,” I admitted, slowly.
Mr. Hollister sent down for his glass, and then joined me in the shrouds. The deck was all a-bustle by now. Cap’n Si came up, rubbing his eyes and yawning.
“What’s the matter with all you lubbers?” was his pleasant demand. “What’s that—the Gullwing? Ain’t you never seen her before?”
“Drop your eyes a bit, Captain,” advised Mr. Hollister, swinging down after a look through his glass.