Blue Jackets: The Log of the TeaserFenn, George Manville
General
Blue Jackets: The Log of the Teaser
Fenn, George Manville
Chinese -- Juvenile fiction; Sea stories
"Skipper's coming," whispered Barkins; and we separated.
For the next hour all was eager watchfulness on board, as we approached
very slowly, shortening sail, and with two men in the chains heaving the
lead on account of the hidden reefs and shoals off some of the islands.
But, as we approached, nothing more could be made out till the man aloft
hailed the deck, and announced that he could read the name on the stern,
_Dunstaffnage, Glasgow_. Another hour passed, during which the island,
a couple of miles beyond, was swept by glass after glass, and tree and
hill examined, but there was no sign of signal on tree or hill. All was
bare, chilly, and repellent there, and we felt that the crew of the
vessel could not have taken refuge ashore.
At last the crew of a boat was piped away, and, as I was gazing
longingly at the men getting in under the command of Mr Brooke, a
quiet, gentlemanly fellow, our junior lieutenant, Mr Reardon said, as
he caught my eye--
"Yes; go."
I did not wait for a second order, you may be sure, but sprang in, and
as the _Teaser_ was thrown up in the wind with her sails flapping, it
being deemed unsafe to go any nearer to the barque, the little wheels
chirrupped, and down we went, to sit the next moment lightly upon a
good-sized wave which rose up as if to receive us; the falls were cast
off, the oars dropped, and the next minute we glided away towards the
stranded vessel.
"Quite a treat to get a bit of an adventure, eh Herrick?" said Mr
Brooke.
"Yes, sir. Been slow enough lately."
"Oh, you need not grumble, my lad. You did have one good adventure. By
the way, how are your sore ribs?"
"My ribs, sir? Oh, I had forgotten all about them. But do you think
this is the work of pirates, or that the ship has run ashore?"
"I'm not sure, my lad, but we shall soon know."
We sat watching the fine well-built barque, as the men pulled lustily at
their oars, making the water flash and the distance grow shorter. Then
all at once my companion said shortly--
"Pirates."
"Where, where?" I said eagerly, and my hand went to my dirk.
Mr Brooke laughed, and I saw all the men showing their teeth.
"No, no, my lad," he said. "I meant this was the work of pirates."
"How do you know, sir?"
"Look at those ropes and sheets hanging loose. They have been cut. The
barque has not been in a storm either. She has just gone on to the
rocks and the fore-topmast evidently snapped with the shock."
"And the smoke? Is that from the forecastle?"
He shook his head, and stood up in the boat, after handing me the lines,
while he remained scanning the vessel attentively.
"Hail her, Jones," he said to the bowman; and the man jumped up, put his
hands to his mouth, and roared out, "_Ship ahoy_!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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