"By your pardon, capt'n," here interrupted Jackson, knuckling his forehead, "but that may be a question not hard to settle if ye'll send me aboard with a few tools."
The captain looked as if he had had a mind to entertain the idea, then sent a glance to windward.
"She'll be full of water," said I.
"Ay," said the captain, turning to Jackson, "how then?"
"We can but lift a hatch and look out for ourselves, sir," answered the man.
"Right," says the captain; "but you'll have to bear a hand. Get that cask on board. Any water in it?" says he.
"Yes, sir," says I.
"Thank God for the same then," says he.
But whilst they were manoeuvring with the cask the breeze freshened in a sudden squall, and all in a minute, as it seemed, a sort of sloppy sea was set a-running. The captain looked anxious, yet still seemed willing that the boat should go to the wreck. I sent some Lascars aloft to furl the loose canvas, and whilst this was doing, the wind freshened yet in another long-drawn blast that swept in a shriek betwixt our masts.
"There's nothing to be done!" sung out the skipper; "get that boat under the fall, Jackson; we must hoist her up."