And work they did for the next three days, by which time the weather had cleared up, their market supplied for a time, and they, themselves, richer by about fifty dollars. Then they went back to their fishing again until the next spell of bad weather should come.
Often, as their little launch lay bobbing at her anchor, on the reef, great stately ships swept by in plain sight, traveling north or south to various ports. The captain watched them with the eager interest of a boy. Almost his whole life had been spent on the sea, and he loved its ships like a mother loves her children.
They were watching one of these ships one day wondering idly as to what might be her name, port, and cargo, when Charley's gaze became centered on a smaller craft some two miles astern of the first. Something about the cut and set of her sails caught and held his attention.
"That boat is some traveler, Captain," he observed. "See how she is drawing up on the one ahead."
The old sailor studied the distant craft with the eye of an expert.
"She is going some," he admitted. "Fore and aft topsail schooner, about eighty tons' burden. Funny, there seems something familiar in the cut of those sails and the set of those spars."
"That's what I was thinking," Charley agreed. "I'm almost certain I've seen that rig before."
"See, she's changed her course and is standing in for shore," suddenly cried the observant old sailor.
It soon became evident that he was right. The stranger came sweeping rapidly on carrying a wave of white froth before her bow.
Her changed course would bring her within half a mile of where they lay, and, as she drew nearer, our little party ceased fishing and stood gazing in admiration at the beautiful picture she made.