She went forward, and he watched the approaching steamer, and the dog watched her also. When the girl returned with a pannikin of hot coffee Hardy had more news to give her. He first drank, then lighted a pipe, and he told her that the ship abeam, whose paddle-wheels had by this time slapped her hull into clear view, was undoubtedly a British man-of-war, and to judge by her course she was either from the Cape de Verde or direct from Rio, or some port on the eastern coast of South America.
"How do you know she is British?" asked Julia.
"By every token of yards squared by lifts and braces, by white bunt, and something white at the gaff end."
"Can you distinguish her flag?"
"It is a speck of light, but I know what it means."
"Will you accept help from her?" inquired Julia.
"Of course I will," he answered. "The Admiralty do not claim salvage, or they so hedge about the claim as to make the claimant's case prohibitory."
"How will she help us?" said the girl.
"Either by towing or sending men. But I doubt if she will tow," answered Hardy. "She may not have enough coal. She may be in a hurry to get home. The sailor is always in a hurry—God help him—and often when he gets home he finds the canary dead in the cage."
"We have no canary to greet us with its corpse," said Julia.