said the skipper in a tone of concern. "Are you sure, Bob?
Here, take the tiller for a moment and let me have a look. Keep her
_dead_ before it."

"Ay, ay, sir," responded Bob, as he changed places with his superior;
the latter going forward and steadying himself by the fore-mast as he
watched for the reappearance of the pinnace.

Presently he caught sight of her, and caught sight too, most
unmistakably, of a flag--or something doing duty therefor--being very
energetically waved on board.

"You are right, Bob," he sharply exclaimed, "they _are_ signalling us.
I fervently hope there is nothing wrong with them. Starboard a little;
there, steady so. Keep her at that as long as you can, and only run her
off when it is absolutely necessary in order to avoid a breaking sea."

In about twenty minutes the launch had reached the pinnace. As the two
boats closed, it was seen that all hands on board her were busy baling;
and she appeared to be low in the water. When the launch was near
enough for a hail to be heard, Mr Bowles stood up and, placing his two
hands together at his mouth, so as to form an impromptu speaking
trumpet, shouted--

"Can you make room for us on board the launch, Captain Staunton? We are
stove and sinking."

"Ay, ay," responded the skipper. "We'll round-to and come alongside."

He then sprang aft to the tiller, which he seized, shouting at the same
time, "To your stations, lads! In with the fore-sail, smartly now."

The sail was speedily taken in; the close-reefed main-sail was set; and
the moment that the sheet was hauled aft the helm was jammed hard down
and the boat brought to the wind, without wasting a moment to watch for
a favourable opportunity. The launch was flying swiftly away from the
pinnace, and the latter was sinking; there was therefore no time for
watching for opportunities; by the frantic way in which Mr Bowles
resumed his task of baling the instant that he had communicated his
momentous tidings Captain Staunton saw that the danger on board the
pinnace was imminent; and the boat was at once rounded-to, shipping in
the operation a sea which half-filled her.

"Man the buckets, every man of you," shouted the skipper as the launch,
now close-hauled, began slowly to forge ahead in the direction of the
devoted pinnace. The seas broke heavily against the bows of the boat as
they swept furiously down upon her; but Bob and his comrades baled like
madmen, while the skipper handled