It was
reefed, flattened down, almost tri-cornered. The two sticks of the
schooner and the jaunty bowsprit pointing skyward heaved again into
view. She stood so long gazing at the craft that Cap'n Ira spoke
again.
"What d'ye say, gal?" he asked anxiously.
"Look--look here, Cap'n Ira!" she exclaimed. "Can it be the
_Seamew_? Is she trying to head in for the channel? Oh! Are they in
danger out there?"
The old man rose with his usual difficulty and hobbled to the door,
leaning on his cane. He peered out over her shoulder, and his keen
and experienced eyes saw and identified the laboring vessel almost
at once.
"I swan! That is the _Seamew_, Ida May," he exclaimed. "Tut, tut!
What's Tunis got himself into such a pickle for? 'Tain't reasonable
he should--being as good a seaman as he is.
"My, my! Why don't he get some cloth on her? He can't have lost all
his upper canvas. Don't he know he needs tops'ls to beat up aslant
of this gale and get into the shelter of the Head? I swan! If
there's men enough there to man her proper, why don't they do the
right thing?"
"Oh, Cap'n Ball," gasped the girl, "perhaps there are not enough men
with him. Perhaps his crew has deserted again.
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