gan, and two other
natives--and before ten minutes had passed, Guest and everyone else on
board the _Fray Bentos_ could see that the _Francesco_ could sail rings
round our old brigantine, even in a stiff breeze, for the cutter drew
as much water as we did, and had a big spread of canvas. By nightfall we
were running before a lusty south-east breeze, the cutter keeping about
half a mile to windward of us, and taking in her gaff topsail, when it
became dark, otherwise she would have run ahead of, and lost us before
morning. At daylight, when I went on deck, she was within a cable's
length, Yorke was steering--smoking as usual--and no one else was
visible on deck.

I hailed him: "Good morning, Captain; where are your men?" "Taking it
out in 'bunk, oh,'" he answered with a laugh. "I came on deck about two
hours ago, and told them to turn in until four bells."

"You'll ruin them for the _Fray Bentos_, sir," cried our mate with
grumbling good-humour. "Why don't you start one of 'em at the galley
fire for your coffee!"

"Because I'm coming aboard you for it," was the reply. He hauled in the
main-sheet, lashed the tiller, went quietly forward without awakening
his native seamen, and put the staysail to windward. Then he came
amidships again to the main hatch, picked up the little dingy which was
lying there, and, despite his bad hand, slid her over the cutter's rail
into the water as if she were a toy, got in, and sculled over to the
brigantine, leaving the cutter to take care of herself!

Charley King, the mate of the _Fray Bentos_ turned to me in
astonishment. He was himself one of the finest built and most powerful
men I had ever met, not thirty years of age, and had achieved a great
reputation as a long-distance swimmer and good all-round athlete.

"Why, Mr. Drake, that dingy must weigh three hundred pounds, if she
weighs an ounce, for she's heavy oak built! And yet with one gammy hand
he can put her over the side as if she was made of brown paper."

Yorke sculled alongside, made fast to the main chains, clambered over
the bulwarks, and stepped aboard in his usual quiet way, as if nothing
out of the common had occurred, and asked the mate what he thought of
the _Francesca_ as a sailer. King looked at him admiringly for a moment.

"She's a daisy, Captain Yorke.... but you oughtn't to have put your boat
over the side by yourself, sir, with that bad hand of yours."

The big man laughed so genuinely, and with such an in