“Mother av Mercy,” whispered Long Jack, “an’ he’s been wid us all these trips! He’s clean bewitched.”
A schooner’s bell struck up alongside, and a voice hailed through the fog:
“O Disko! ’Heard abaout the Jennie Cushman ?”
“They have found his son,” cried Penn. “Stand you still and see the salvation of the Lord!”
“Got Jason aboard here,” Disko answered, but his voice quavered. “There—warn’t anyone else?”
“We’ve fund one, though. ’Run acrost him snarled up in a mess o’ lumber thet might ha’ bin a foc’sle. His head’s cut some.”
“Who is he?”
The We’re Here ’s heartbeats answered one another.
“Guess it’s young Olley,” the voice drawled.
Penn raised his hands and said something in German. Harvey could have sworn that a bright sun was shining upon his lifted face; but the drawl went on:
“Sa‑ay! You fellers guyed us consid’rable t’other night.”
“We don’t feel like guyin’ any now,” said Disko.
“I know it; but to tell the honest truth we was kinder—kinder driftin’ when we run agin young Olley.”
It was the irrepressible Carrie Pitman , and a roar of unsteady laughter went up from the deck of the We’re Here .