“It seemed to me,” said Roger, “that it was just the thing to be done, and so I did it.”
“You tarpaulins are accustomed to the water; it is an advantage you have over us,” remarked the lieutenant.
The Ruby remained hove-to under storm canvas for five days, when, the weather moderating, she once more made sail and stood on her course. She had been running on for several days, the wind had fallen to a light breeze, and the sea was smooth; it was soon after down. Charlie Ross, who was one of the midshipmen of the watch, was stationed on the topgallant forecastle. He had been looking out for some time when he was joined by Roger.
“There is something away there on the starboard bow which puzzles me,” he said. “It looks like the body of a huge whale.”
“It is either that or the hull of a dismasted vessel,” observed Roger. “I think it the latter. You should have reported it to the officer of the watch. I will go and do so.”
Dick Kemp had charge of the deck, for the lieutenants in those days, unless they were tarpaulins or brought up in the service, did not perform that duty. Kemp came forward with his spy-glass, and soon pronounced the object seen to be—as Roger supposed—the hull of a dismasted vessel He at once sent below to obtain permission from the Captain to steer towards it.
“Though she looks in a fearfully battered condition, there may still be people on board, and we must try to rescue them,” he observed.
As the Ruby drew nearer a man could be seen on the deck holding on to a part of the shattered bulwarks and waving a flag.
“There is one man on board at all events,” observed Kemp; “there may be more. Willoughby, do you get a boat ready to lower, and I will let the Captain know that it is time to heave-to.”
