" Only one of the wire ropes needed to be
thrown off; then the boy squeaked shrilly, "Make the painter fast to a
belaying-pin for fear a sea lifts the boat over," and then Ferrier was
satisfied. His strength was like the strength of madness, and he felt
sure that he could whirl the boat over the side himself without the aid
of the falls. His evolutions while he was working on the swashing deck
were not graceful or dignified, but he was pleased with himself; the
fighting spirit of Young England was roused in him, and, in spite of
numbing cold, the bite of hunger, and all his bruises, he sang out
cheerily, "Never mind, skipper; I'll live to be an old salt yet."
Only one quarter of an hour passed, and then a vessel came curtseying
gracefully down.
"What's that?" shouted Ferrier.
Larmor pointed to the questioner.
"Do you mean it's the yacht?"
The skipper nodded. The doctor would have fallen had he not brought all
his force to bear; the strain was telling hard, and soon Lewis Ferrier's
third stage of education was too be completed.
The schooner swam swiftly on, like a pretty swan. Ah! sure no ship come
to bear the shipwrecked men to fairyland could have seemed lovelier than
that good, solid yacht. Right alongside she came, on the leeward
quarter of the hulk. _Four_ ladies were on deck.
"Ah! the invalid ghosts are up. _That_ ship hasn't suffered very much,"
said Lewis.
When Tom Lennard caught sight of Ferrier he gathered his choicest
energies together for the production of a howl.
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