“T’ankee, t’ankee!” answered the Arab; “much t’ankee!” Ned then gave him some more sopped biscuit.
“What’s his name?” inquired Charley. “Ask him, as he seems to speak English.”
“Sayd,” answered the Arab immediately, showing that he understood what was said.
Charley was now steering the boat to the northward. In a short time day broke, and as the sun rose, his rays fell on the white canvas of the corvette, which was standing close-hauled to the south-west, her black hull just seen above the horizon.
“Hurrah!” cried Charley, “there’s the old ‘barky’; I hope we shall soon be on board.”
“If she stands on that course she’ll pass us,” said Ned.
“No fear of that,” answered Charley; “she’ll soon be about, and we shall be on board and all to rights.”
He was not mistaken; the corvette immediately tacked, her canvas, which had hitherto seemed of snowy whiteness, being thrown into dark shadow. She now stood towards the south-east, on a course which would bring her so near that the boat would soon be seen from her deck. Before long she again came to the wind.
“She is going about again!” exclaimed Ned.
“No, no, she’s heaving to to pick up one of the boats,” answered Charley.