“Then I thank God—He hear my prayer. I ask ship come—ship do come,” said Charley.
“You are right, boy—you are right!” cried Dick. “And I was forgetting all about that prayer of yours.”
The tall ship glided rapidly over the ocean, the surface of which was now rippled with miniature wavelets as the freshening breeze swept across it.
“To my eye, she is a foreign ship of war,” observed Dick. “But a friend in need is a friend indeed, and we may be thankful to be taken on board by her or any other craft. Even if a ‘Mounseer’ had offered to pick us up, I would not have refused.”
The ship approaching was hove-to, a boat being lowered from her, which, with rapid strokes, pulled towards the raft.
Chapter Four.
The Pirate Ship.
Dick and the little boy were lifted off the raft, with the basket and cask, and placed in the stern of the boat. The crew were swarthy fellows with red caps, and Dick at once saw that the uniform worn by the officers in command was neither English nor French. They appeared to be talking gibberish, but such indeed were all foreign languages to him. He asked Charley if it was the French lingo.