w what we were
going to attempt, and he was willing to trust himself to old Tom and me.
And the next morning, as soon as it was light, the Wavecrest was slung
over the side, her mast stepped, and the riggers got to work on her. By
noon she was provisioned and everything was ready for our cruise.

Ben Gibson was let down into the cockpit of the Wavecrest on a
mattress and was got comfortably into the cabin without any trouble.
There was a steady breeze, but the sea was calm. The crew bade us
godspeed and the skipper wrung my hand hard; but only said:

"Do the best you can for him, Webb. I'm trustin' to you and Tom to pull
the lad through."

We got the canvas up and sheered off from the Scarboro's side. We could
hear the muffled hammering of the carpenter and his mates inside her
wounded hull. They were fighting to keep the old hooker above the seas.
As we drifted away from the whaling bark I was not at all sure that we
should ever see her above the seas again.

Our canvas filled and the sloop got a bone in her teeth and walked away
with it just as prettily as ever she had sailed in Bolderhead Harbor.

"She's a beauty boat, lad," growled old Tom Anderly. "And she's taking
us out o' range o' them carcasses--Whew! they sartainly do begin to
stink. I don't begredge the boys their job of cutting them whales up
when they git at it."

We left the gulls and the sharks behind, with the bark and the rotting
whales, and soon they were all far away--mere specks upon the horizon.

CHAPTER XXII

IN WHICH WE SAIL THE SILVER RIVER AND I SEE A FACE I KNOW

I had covered, perhaps, almost as much open sea when I was blown out of
Bolderhead in the sloop, as now lay between the Scarboro and Cape St.
Antonio. But, as you might say, I had taken that first trip blindly.
This time I had my eyes open and all my wits about me--and I knew that
we had taken a big contract. The Wavecrest was a mere cockle-shell in
which to cross such a waste of open sea as that which lay between us and
the mouth of Rio de la Plata.

But the Wavecrest was a seaworthy craft, and that indeed had been
proved. She had been freshly caulked while she lay on the deck of the
Scarboro, and her seams did not let in enough water to keep her sweet.
She sailed well in either a light or heavy wind and I really had no fear
that we should not make the great seaport of the Argentine Republic all
in good time.

It was bad for poor Ben Gibson, however. The sun was h