Part 13 (2/2)
”Isn't she a trifle far out, Pilot?”
”It's good holding-ground out there--stiff clay that would hold anything. What did I tell you?--there you are--coming-to. She's got starn-board. There goes the anchor!”
The skipper had hitherto displayed but little interest in the strange vessel, but now he was shouting and gesticulating, as a flag was run up to her fore-truck.
”Look at that, Summerhayes!” he exclaimed. ”If you ain't blind, tell me what that flag is. Sure as I'm a master without a s.h.i.+p, it's the currantine flag.”
”So it is, so it is. That means the Health Officer, Sartoris.” And the gruff old Pilot hastened down to the dingey.
As the two seamen put off from the island, the skipper, who was in the stern of the little boat, could see Summerhayes's crew standing about on the slip of the pilot-shed; and by the time the dingey had reached the sh.o.r.e, the Pilot's big whale-boat lay by the landing-stage.
”Where's the doctor?” roared Summerhayes. ”Is he goin' to make us hunt for him when he's required for the first time this six weeks?”
”All right, all right,” called a clear voice from inside the great shed.
”I'm ready before you are this time, Pilot.”
”An' well you are,” growled the gruff old barnacle. ”That furrin'-lookin' barque outside has hoisted the yellow flag. Get aboard, lads, get aboard.”
”Your men discovered the fact half an hour ago, by the aid of your telescope.” The doctor came slowly down the slip, carrying a leather hand-bag.
”If you've any mercy,” said the Pilot, ”you'll spare 'em the use o'
that. Men die fast enough without physic.”
”Next time you get the sciatica, Summerhayes, I'll give you a double dose.”
”An' charge me a double fee. I know you. Shove her off, Johnson.”
The grim old Pilot stood with the steering-oar in his hand; the skipper and the doctor sitting on either hand of him, and the crew pulling as only a trained crew can.
”Steady, men,” said the Pilot: ”it's only half tide, and there's plenty of water coming in at the entrance. Keep your wind for that, Hendricson.”
With one hand he unb.u.t.toned the flap of his capacious trouser-pocket, and took out a small bunch of keys, which he handed to Sartoris.
”Examine the locker,” he said. ”It's the middle-sized key.” The captain, in a moment, had opened the padlock which fastened the locker under the Pilot's seat.
”Is there half-a-dozen of beer--quarts?” asked Summerhayes.
”There is,” replied Sartoris.
”Two bottles of rum?”
”Yes.”
”Gla.s.ses?”
”Four.”
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