had expressed an opinion, and Martin, who held
that "boys an' Dutchmen should only speak when spoke to," was
scornfully indignant.

"'O--ly bloomin' Joe! ... 'Ow should she be an 'oly Joe, me young
'know-all'? Wot d'ye know 'bout 'oly Joes, anyway?"

"Well! ... 'eard as 'ow they clews up at eight bells o' a Saturd'y
night an' prays, solid on, till they sets tawps'ls, jack-easy, ov a
Monday mornin'!"

The laugh of derision sent him shamefaced to the fo'cas'le, and we
talked about till there was a call for all hands to haul courses up and
stand by to work ship. We hauled sharp up to windward, and, as we drew
on, we saw what was the matter, and the sight caused our Old Man to
dive below to his charts, cursing his wayward chronometer.

We saw the loom of a low island, scarce raised above the sea, with the
surf breaking lightly, and the big ship piled up, all standing, on the
verge of the weather reef. She looked to be but lately gone on, for
her topsides were scarce weather-beaten. The boats were gone from her
skids, and the davit tackles, swinging lubberly overside, told that her
crew had left her. Aloft, she seemed to be in good trim, and her sails
were as well stowed as if she were lying in the Canning Dock with her
nose against the Custom House. We lay-to for some time with our ensign
apeak, but saw no sign of life aboard of the wreck, and when we fired a
charge from our signal-gun (a rusty six-pounder), only a few sea-birds
rose at the report. We were about to bear off on our course again when
we saw two sail rounding the reef from the west side, and beating out.

There was but a light breeze, and they were some time in reaching us.
One was a large boat with barked canvas, going well and weatherly, but
the other, plainly a ship's lifeboat, hung heavy in the wind, and
presently her crew lowered sail and came at us under oars. The big
boat reached us first, her steersman taking every inch out of the
fickle breeze. Plainly these were no deep-water sailor-men, by the way
they handled their boat. Smart, wiry men, they had no look of
castaways, and their light cotton clothes were cleanly and in order.
As they sheered alongside they hailed us in clear, pleasant English:
one shouted, in face of our line of wondering seamen, a strange sea
salutation:

"God bless you, Captain Leish! Are you long out?"

"Blimy," said the bo'sun, "th' young 'un wos right after all. 'Oly
Joes they be!"

"Mebbe 'oly Joes, but