She did as I had done—stood on a thwart, securely planting one foot on the gunwale; and even in such a moment as that I could find mind enough to admire the beauty of her figure and the charming grace of her posture as her form floated perpendicularly upon the staggering motions of the lugger.
'Now, Hugh!' she cried, as her outstretched hands were borne up to the level of mine. I caught her. She sprang, and was at my side in a breath.
'Nobly done, Helga,' said I: 'now over the rail with us.'
She stopped to call Abraham with a voice in which I could trace no hurry of breathing: 'Will you please hand me up my little parcel?'
This was done, and a minute later we had gained the poop of the barque.
The man with the long whiskers advanced to the break of the short poop or upper deck as Helga and I ascended the ladder that led to it. He seized the brim of his hat, and, without lifting it, bowed his head as though to the tug he gave, and said with a slightly nasal accent by no means Yankee, but of the kind that is common to the denomination of 'tub-thumpers':
'I suppose you are the two distressed parties the sailor in the lugger called out about?'
'We are, sir,' said I. 'May I take it that you are the captain of this barque?'
'You may,' he responded, with his eyes fixed on Helga. 'Captain Joppa Bunting, master of the barque Light of the World, from the river Thames for Table Bay, with a small cargo and for orders. That gives you everything, sir,' said he.
He pulled at his long whiskers with a complacent smile, now contemplating me and now Helga.