Shall I hoist a signal?"
"No," said the captain. "Wait!"
They waited to see what this vessel was going to do. Perhaps she was only
tacking. But what fool of a skipper would run so close to the shore for
the sake of tacking! They watched her eagerly, but not one of the white
men would have been wholly disappointed if the schooner, which they could
now easily make out, had changed her course and gone off on a long tack
to the southwest.
But she was not tacking. She came rapidly on before a stiff west wind.
There was no need of getting out boats to go to meet her. She was south
of the headland, but was steering directly toward it. They could see what
sort of craft she was--a long schooner, painted green, with all sails
set. Very soon they could see the heads of the men on board. Then she
came nearer and nearer to land, until she was less than half a mile from
shore. Then she shot into the wind; her sails fluttered; she lay almost
motionless, and her head-sails were lowered.
"That's just as if they were coming into port," said Burke.
"Yes," said Shirley, "I expect they intend to drop anchor."
This surmise was correct, for, as he spoke, the anchor went down
with a splash.
"They're very business-like," said Burke. "Look at them. They are
lowering a boat."
"A boat!" exclaimed Shirley, "They're lowering two of them."
The captain knit his brows.
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