The vessel seemed fearful of these moaning voices that called from a hidden cavern of the water. And now one voice was filled with a menace. A number of men with enormous limbs that threw vast shadows over the sea as the lanterns flickered, held a debate and made gestures. Off in the darkness, the tall man began to clamour like a mob. The freckled man sat in astounded silence, with his legs weak. After a time one of the men of enormous limbs seized a rope that was tugging at the stern and drew a small boat from the shadows. Three giants clambered in and rowed cautiously toward the raft. Silver water flashed in the gloom as the oars dipped. About fifty feet from the raft the boat stopped. "Who er you?" asked a voice. The tall man braced himself and explained. He drew vivid pictures, his twirling fingers illustrating like live brushes. "Oh," said the three giants. The voyagers deserted the raft. They looked back, feeling in their hearts a mite of tenderness for the wet planks. Later, they wriggled up the side of the vessel and climbed over the railing. On deck they met a man. He held a lantern to their faces. "Got any chewin' tewbacca?" he inquired. "No," said the tall man, "we ain't." The man had a bronze face and solitary whiskers. Peculiar lines about his mouth were shaped into an eternal smile of derision. His feet were bare, and clung handily to crevices. Fearful trousers were supported by a piece of suspender that went up the wrong side of his chest and came down the right side of his back, dividing him into triangles. "Ezekiel P. Sanford, capt'in, schooner 'Mary Jones,' of N'yack, N.Y., genelmen," he said. "Ah!" said the tall man, "delighted, I'm sure." There were a few moments of silence. The giants were hovering in the gloom and staring. Suddenly astonishment exploded the captain. "Wot th' devil--" he shouted, "wot th' devil yeh got on?" "Bathing-suits," said the tall man. CHAPTER IV. The schooner went on. The two voyagers sat down and watched. After a time they began to shiver. The soft blackness of the summer night passed away, and grey mists writhed over the sea. Soon lights of early dawn went changing across the sky, and the twin beacons on the highlands grew dim and sparkling faintly, as if a monster were dying. The dawn penetrated the marrow of the two men in bathing-dress. The captain used to pause opposite them, hitch one hand in his suspender, and laugh. "Well, I be dog-hanged," he frequently said. The tall man grew furious. He snarled in a mad undertone to his companion. "This rescue ain't right. If I had known--" He suddenly paused, transfixed by the captain's suspender. "It's goin' to break," cried he, in an ecstatic whisper. His eyes grew large with excitement as he watched the captain laugh. "It'll break in a minute, sure." But the commander of the schooner recovered, and invited them to drink and eat. They followed him along the deck, and fell down a square black hole into the cabin.