The temptation was irresistible, and Miss Rumbolt, telling her father that she should not be long, disappeared into the house in search of her hat and jacket, and ten minutes later the brawny rowers were gazing their fill into her deep blue eyes as she sat in the stern of the boat, and told Lewis to behave himself.
It was but a short pull out to the schooner, and Miss Rumbolt was soon on the deck, lavishing endearments on the monkey, and energetically prodding the bear with a handspike to make him growl. The noise of the offended animal as he strove to get through the bars of his cage was terrific, and the girl was in the full enjoyment of it, when she became aware of a louder noise still, and, turning round, saw the seamen at the windlass.
“Why, what are they doing?” she demanded, “getting up anchor?”
“Ahoy, there!” shouted Hezekiah sternly. “What are you doing with that windlass?”
As he spoke, the anchor peeped over the edge of the bows, and one of the seamen running past them took the helm.
“Now then,” shouted the fellow, “stand by. Look lively there with them sails.”
Obeying a light touch of the helm, the schooner’s bow-sprit slowly swung round from the land, and the crew, hauling lustily on the ropes, began to hoist the sails.
“What the devil are you up to?” thundered the skipper. “Have you all gone mad? What does it all mean?”
“It means,” said one of the seamen, whose fat, amiable face was marred by a fearful scowl, “that we’ve got a new skipper.”
“Good heavens, a mutiny!” exclaimed the skipper, starting melodramatically against the cage, and starting hastily away again. “Where’s the mate?”