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There was our tall friend Joe Davidson, the mate; and Ned Spivin, a man of enormous chest and shoulders, though short in the legs; and Luke Trevor, a handsome young fellow of middle size, but great strength and activity, and John Gunter, a big sour-faced man with a low brow, rough black hair, and a surly spirit.
With their utmost energy indeed, but without confusion, they sprang to the boat which, although lifted, had not been washed away. Accustomed to launch it in all weathers, they got it into the water, and, almost mechanically, Ned Spivin and Gunter tumbled into it, while Joe Davidson held on to the painter. Billy Bright was about to follow, but looking back shouted, "Come along, father!"
When the Evening Star's boat, therefore, had forced itself alongside, Zulu found himself heaving against the steamer's side, now looking up at an iron wall about fifteen feet high, anon pitching high on the billows till he could see right down on the deck. Spivin was there ready for him, looking up, with a trunk on the boat's gunwale.
Now, we have said that Spivin was fond of chaffing his mates and of practical jokes. So was Billy, and between these two, therefore, there was a species of rivalry. When Spivin observed that Luke was about to pull out the last loop that held the bag, he shouted in a loud voice of alarm "Hallo! Billy, catch hold of this rope, quick!"
"Come, Gunter, you're too hard on 'im," cried Spivin; "I don't believe you've bought a watch for her at all; at least if you have, it must be a pewter one." Thus taunted, Gunter resolved to carry out the bold line of action. "What d'ee call that?" he cried, pulling out the watch and holding it up to view.
Many loose articles were swept away and lost, and the boat which lay on the deck alongside of the mast, had a narrow escape. Billy and his friend Luke, being well under the lee of the bulwarks, escaped the full force of the deluge, but Ned Spivin, who steered, was all but torn from his position, though he clung with all his strength to the tiller and the rope that held it fast.
"How many hands you tink I've got?" "Eight at the very least," said Spivin, "an' I can prove it." "How you do dat?" asked Zulu, opening up his great eyes. "Easy. Hold out your paws. Isn't that one hand?" "Yes." "An' doesn't that make two hands?" "Yes." "Well, ain't one hand and two hands equal to three hands, you booby? an' don't you know that monkeys have hands instead o' feet?
"Shove out the boat, boys," said the skipper promptly, as he shut up the wounded hand and bound it tightly in that position with his pocket-handkerchief to stop the bleeding. Joe Davidson, who had seen the accident, and at once understood what was wanted, sprang to the boat at the same moment with Luke and Spivin.
The boat of the Evening Star was ere long among the latter with her second load Zulu grinning in the bow and Spivin in the stern. Zulu was of that cheery temperament that cannot help grinning. If he had been suddenly called on to face Death himself, we believe he would have met him with a grin.
"This is a new hand?" pointing to Ned. "Ay, he's noo, is Ned Spivin, but he can drink." "Come down, then, all of 'ee." Now, Ned Spivin was one of those yielding good-natured youths who find it impossible to resist what may be styled good-fellowship.
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