He suddenly ceased and turned to stone. At a distance a great, green eye was contemplating the sea wanderers.
They stood up and did another dance. As they watched the eye grew larger.
Directly the form of a phantom-like ship came into view. About the great, green eye there bobbed small yellow dots. The wanderers could hear a far-away creaking of unseen tackle and flapping of shadowy sails. There came the melody of the waters as the ship’s prow thrust its way.
The tall man delivered an oration.
“Ha!” he exclaimed, “here come our rescuers. The brave fellows! How I long to take the manly captain by the hand! You will soon see a white boat with a star on its bow drop from the side of yon ship. Kind sailors in blue and white will help us into the boat and conduct our wasted frames to the quarter-deck, where the handsome, bearded captain, with gold bands all around, will welcome us. Then in the hard-oak cabin, while the wine gurgles and the Havanas glow, we’ll tell our tale of peril and privation.”
The ship came on like a black hurrying animal with froth-filled maw. The two wanderers stood up and clasped hands. Then they howled out a wild duet that rang over the wastes of sea.
The cries seemed to strike the ship.
Men with boots on yelled and ran about the deck. They picked up heavy articles and threw them down. They yelled more. After hideous creakings and flappings, the vessel stood still.
In the meantime the wanderers had been chanting their song for help. Out in the blackness they beckoned to the ship and coaxed.
A voice came to them.
“Hello,” it said.
They puffed out their cheeks and began to shout. “Hello! Hello! Hello!”
“Wot do yeh want?” said the voice.
The two wanderers gazed at each other, and sat suddenly down on the raft. Some pall came sweeping over the sky and quenched their stars.
But almost the tall man got up and brawled miscellaneous information. He stamped his foot, and frowning into the night, swore threateningly.
The vessel seemed fearful of these moaning voices that called from a hidden cavern of the water. And now one voice was filled with a menace. A number of men with enormous limbs that threw vast shadows over the sea as the lanterns flickered, held a debate and made gestures.
Off in the darkness, the tall man began to clamor like a mob. The freckled man sat in astounded silence, with his legs weak.
After a time one of the men of enormous limbs seized a rope that was tugging at the stem and drew a small boat from the shadows. Three giants clambered in and rowed cautiously toward the raft. Silver water flashed in the gloom as the oars dipped.
About fifty feet from the raft the boat stopped. “Who er you?” asked a voice.
The tall man braced himself and explained. He drew vivid pictures, his twirling fingers illustrating like live brushes.
“Oh,” said the three giants.
The voyagers deserted the raft. They looked back, feeling in their hearts a mite of tenderness for the wet planks. Later, they wriggled up the side of the vessel and climbed over the railing.
On deck they met a man.
He held a lantern to their faces. “Got any chewin’ tewbacca?” he inquired.
“No,” said the tall man, “we ain’t.”
The man had a bronze face and solitary whiskers. Peculiar lines about his mouth were shaped into an eternal smile of derision. His feet were bare, and clung handily to crevices.
Fearful trousers were supported by a piece of suspender that went up the wrong side of his chest and came down the right side of his back, dividing him into triangles.
“Ezekiel P. Sanford, capt’in, schooner ‘Mary Jones,’ of N’yack, N. Y., genelmen,” he said.
“Ah!” said the tall man, “delighted, I’m sure.”
There were a few moments of silence. The giants were hovering in the gloom and staring.
Suddenly astonishment exploded the captain.
“Wot th’ devil—” he shouted. “Wot th’ devil yeh got on?”
“Bathing-suits,” said the tall man.
CHAPTER IV
The schooner went on. The two voyagers sat down and watched. After a time they began to shiver. The soft blackness of the summer night passed away, and grey mists writhed over the sea. Soon lights of early dawn went changing across the sky, and the twin beacons on the highlands grew dim and sparkling faintly, as if a monster were dying. The dawn penetrated the marrow of the two men in bathing-dress.
The captain used to pause opposite them, hitch one hand in his suspender, and laugh.
“Well, I be dog-hanged,” he frequently said.
The tall man grew furious. He snarled in a mad undertone to his companion. “This rescue ain’t right. If I had known—”
He suddenly paused, transfixed by the captain’s suspender. “It’s goin’ to break,” cried he, in an ecstatic whisper. His eyes grew large with excitement as he watched the captain laugh. “It’ll break in a minute, sure.”
But the commander of the schooner recovered, and invited them to drink and eat. They followed him along the deck, and fell down a square black hole into the cabin.
It was a little den, with walls of a vanished whiteness. A lamp shed an orange light. In a sort of recess two little beds were hiding. A wooden table, immovable, as if the craft had been builded around it, sat in the middle of the floor. Overhead the square hole was studded with a dozen stars. A foot-worn ladder led to the heavens.
The captain produced ponderous crackers and some cold broiled ham. Then he vanished in the firmament like a fantastic comet.
The freckled man sat quite contentedly like a stout squaw in a blanket. The tall man walked about the cabin and sniffed. He was angered at the crudeness of the rescue, and his shrinking clothes made him feel too large. He contemplated his unhappy state.
Suddenly, he broke out. “I won’t stand this, I tell you! Heavens and earth, look at the—say, what in the blazes did you want to get me in this thing for, anyhow? You’re a fine old duffer, you are! Look at that ham!”
The freckled man grunted. He seemed somewhat blissful. He was seated upon a bench, comfortably enwrapped in his bathing-dress.
The tall man stormed about the cabin.
“This is an outrage! I’ll see the captain! I’ll tell him what I think of—”
He was interrupted by a pair of legs that appeared among the stars. The captain came down the ladder. He brought a coffee pot from the sky.
The tall man bristled forward. He was going to denounce everything.
The captain was intent upon the coffee pot, balancing it carefully, and leaving his unguided feet to find the steps of the ladder.
But the wrath of the tall man faded. He twirled his fingers in excitement, and renewed his ecstatic whisperings to the freckled man.
“It’s going to break! Look, quick, look! It’ll break in a minute!”
He was transfixed with interest, forgetting his wrongs in staring at the perilous passage.
But