t wondering at the emptiness about
me when I heard sudden uproar from the deck above my head, shouts,
cries, a rush and patter of many feet, and above all Penfeather's
furious hail.

Wondering, I came to the open port, and leaning out saw it was evening
with a heavy mist creeping down upon the waters, and through the mist
loomed a great, black ship drifting lubberly across our hawse. Louder
and more furious grew the shouting above, answered by a hail aboard the
great, black craft as, broadside on, she swung towards us.

And now, creeping in the mist, I beheld a small boat with a great,
shapeless bundle in the stern-sheets and rowed by a single waterman who
swung easily to his oars, scanning now the "Faithful Friend," now the
great black ship, like one who bided the inevitable crash. Sudden I
heard the roar of one of Penfeather's ever-ready pistols followed by
his voice up raised in vicious sea-curses, and glancing up saw the
black ship right aboard of us and braced myself for the impact; came a
shock, a quiver of creaking timbers and the groan of our straining
hawsers as the black ship, falling off, drifted by in a roaring storm
of oaths and blasphemy. Now when her battered stern-gallery was nigh
lost in the mist, bethinking me of the boat I had seen, I glanced about
and beheld matter that set me wondering; for he was the fellow plying
his oars with a will and so near that I might have tossed a biscuit
aboard him; moreover the great misshapen bundle had lain in the
stern-sheets was there no longer, which set me mightily a-wondering.
Long after man and boat were swallowed up in the fog I sat there lost
in thought, insomuch that I started to feel a hearty clap on the
shoulder and, turning, beheld Godby, a pair of great gold rings in his
ears, and very sailor-like in all things from sea-boots to mariner's
bonnet.

"Here's a ploy, Mart'n!" says he with a round oath. "Here's yon curst
lubberly craft carried away our starboard cat-head and six-feet o' the
harpings wi't, sink him! And us but waiting for my lady to come aboard
to trip anchor and away. And now here's we shorebound for another two
days at the least as I'm a gunner! And all on account of yon black dog,
burn him! A plaguy fine craft as sails wi' no name on her anywheres,
keelhaul me else! But Penfeather winged one o' the lubberly rogues,
praise God, Mart'n! Which done and with due time to curse 'em, every
mother's son of 'em, he turns to--him and the car