“Ship burn; blow up?” was the next question put to Bill, the speaker showing what he meant by suitable action.
“Yes,” said Bill, “and I am afraid all my shipmates are lost. Though you are French, you won’t send me to prison, I hope?”
“Have no fear,” answered the man, smiling; and turning round to his companions, he explained what Bill had said. They smiled, and Bill heard them say, “Pauvre garçon.”
“No! no! no! You sleep now, we take care of you,” said the interpreter, whose knowledge of English was, however, somewhat limited.
Bill felt a strong inclination to follow the advice given him. One of the men, bundling up his wet clothes, carried them to dry at the little galley fire forward. The rest went on deck, and Bill in another minute fell fast asleep. Where the cutter was going Bill could not tell. He had known her to be a fishing-vessel by seeing the nets on deck, and he had guessed that she was French by the way in which the people on board had spoken. They had given evidence also that they intended to treat him kindly.
Some hours must have passed away when Bill again awoke, feeling very hungry. It was daylight, and he saw that his clothes were laid at the foot of his berth.
Finding that his strength had returned, he got up, and began dressing himself. He had just finished when he saw that there was some one in the opposite berth. “Perhaps the skipper was up all night, and has turned in,” thought Bill; but as he looked again, he saw that the head was certainly not that of a man, but the face was turned away from him.
His intention was to go on deck, to try and thank the French fishermen, as far as he was able, for saving his life, but before he did so curiosity prompted him to look again into the berth.
What was his surprise and joy to recognise the features of his shipmate, Jack Peek! His face was very pale, but he was breathing, which showed that he was alive. At all events, Bill thought that he would not awake him, eager as he was to know how he had been saved.
He went up on deck, hoping that the man who had spoken a few words of English might be able to tell him how Jack had been picked up. On reaching the deck he found that the vessel was close in with the land. She was towing a shattered gig, which Bill recognised as one of those belonging to the Foxhound. He at once conjectured that Jack had managed somehow or other to get into her.