I followed him until I had come to the part of the deck that was right over Miss Robertson's cabin, and there struck three smart blows with the heel of my boot, at the same time flapping my hands against my breast so as to make Cornish believe that I was warming myself.
I walked to the break of the poop and waited.
In less time than I could count twenty a figure came out of the cuddy and mounted the poop ladder, and stood by my side. Looking close into the face I could see that it was rather too white to be a sailor's, that was all. The figure was a man's, most perfectly so.
"Admirable!" I whispered, grasping her hand.
I posted her close against the screened skylight, that her figure might be on a level with the mizzen-mast viewed from the wheel, and called to the boatswain.
The tone of my voice gave him his cue. He came forward just as a man would to receive an order.
"She is here," I said, turning him by the arm to where Miss Robertson stood motionless. "For God's sake get forward at once! Lose no time!"
He went up to her and said—
"I'm sorry I can't see you properly, miss. If this wur daylight I reckon you'd make a handsome sailor, just fit for the gals to go dreamin' an' ravin' about."
With which, and waving his hand, the plucky fellow slipped off the poop like a shadow, and I watched him glide along the main-deck until he vanished.