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Updated: June 29, 2025
Next moment he was looking down, for a wave had lifted the boat's gunwale absolutely above the vessel's bulwark for an instant. No words were needed. Each knew what to do. Zulu made a powerful grab, Spivin let go, the trunk was on the steamer's rail, whence it was hurled to the deck, narrowly missing the legs and toes of half-a-dozen reckless men who seized it and sent it below.
David Bright only meant that, having observed through his telescope the little transaction between the White Cloud and the Coper, his intention was to pay that vessel a visit to go carousing, or, as the North Sea smacksmen have it, "cruisin'." Gunter obeyed the order with satisfaction and alacrity. "Jump in, Spivin, and you come too, Billy."
They were very loath to break up, but, a breeze having arisen, it became necessary that they should depart, so they came on deck at last, and an animated scene of receiving and exchanging books, magazines, tracts, and pamphlets ensued. Then, also, Gunter got some salve for his shins, Ned Spivin had his cut hand dressed and plastered.
Nevertheless the crew of the Evening Star did it with as much quiet determination and almost as much speed as if there was no sea on at all. Billy and Trevor slid the trunks to the vessel's side; the mate and Gunter lifted them, rested them a moment on the edge; Zulu and Spivin stood in the surging boat with outstretched arms and glaring eyes.
Zulu was followed by Ned Spivin, while Gunter, taking a quick turn of the long and strong painter round a belaying-pin, held on. The Evening Star was now lying-to, not far from the steam-carrier.
Joe, Luke, Spivin, and Zulu, as well as Billy, leaned over the side of the smack, with their ten arms extended and their fifty fingers curled like crabs' claws or grappling-irons, ready to hook on and hold on. David Bright's extended and helpless form was held in position by Gunter.
A mighty swing of the boat suggested that the little craft meant to run the big one down. They closed, two trunks were grappled, let go, deposited, and before the next wave swung them alongside again, Spivin and Zulu were glaring up ready for more while Joe and Gunter were gazing down ready to deliver. When the boat was loaded the painter was cast off and she dropped astern.
When this reply was finished, the vessels were too far apart for further intercourse. "Humph!" ejaculated Gunter, "one o' the psalm-singin' lot, I suppose." "If it's the psalm-singin'," said Spivin, "as makes Jim Frost bear his troubles wi' good temper, an' thank God for foul weather an' fair, the sooner you take to it the better for yourself."
Towards morning the wind moderated a little, and then the crew gazed anxiously around on the heaving grey waves, for well did they know that such a squall could not pass over the North Sea without claiming its victims. "It blowed that 'ard at one time," said Ned Spivin to Joe Davidson, "that I expected to see the main-mast tore out of 'er." "I'm afeard for the Rainbow," said Joe.
The tiller fell to leeward. Brock went headlong with it, stumbled over the side, and, before any one could stretch out a hand to prevent it, fell into the sea and sank. His comrades were apparently sobered in an instant. There was no need for the hurried order to jump into the boat alongside. Ned Spivin and Billy were in it with the painter cast off and the oars out in a couple of seconds.
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