“Who is the man that answers?” I called.
“Jarvie Files.”
“Right y’are!” I cried.
The lugger’s helm was put down, and she came alongside. One of my Whitby men was on the forecastle, keeping what we term at sea an “anchor watch.” I told him to remain forward.
“There are men enough,” said I, “belonging to the lugger to answer my turn.”
The others and the Kanaka were in the forecastle asleep. Jimmy was awake in the cabin, where the lamp was alight. Several figures came over the side, and one of them, catching sight of me, said:
“Are you Mr. Fielding?”
“I’m from Capt’n Round, sir. The coast’ll be clear, I allow; but we’ll have to look sharp. Where’s the stuff?”
“Follow me,” said I.