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Updated: June 23, 2025
The same thought seemed to have occurred to the old commodore; for, as I said this, in pursuance of some order he must have given to that effect for nobody does a thing on board a man-o'-war without the previous command of his superior officer the boatswain hailed the little craft. "Boat ahoy!" he shouted, with his lungs of brass and voice of a bull. "Ahoy! Ahoy-oy!"
The sun was up when he started into full wakefulness, and his clothes were drenched with dew. "If I don't have a taste of jungle fever after this, it's strange to me," he said, hastily swallowing a little white powder from a tiny bottle. "A stitch in time saves nine, and blessed is the salt quinine." "Humph! that's rhyme," he grunted. "Only to think that I should go to sleep. Ahoy-oy!" he shouted.
And, placing his hollowed hands on each side of his mouth to form a speaking trumpet the skipper drew a deep inspiration or two, hailed with the utmost strength of his lungs; "Ship ahoy-oy!" And then listened. No response. Nothing save the faint murmurings and railings of the gathering gale. "Ship ahoy-oy!" Hark! what was that?
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