"Two of the sailors from the wreck, I think."
"Don't shoot us, captain," called one of the men. "We are unarmed
and want to talk with you."
"They are Gibson and Marny," said Captain Blossom. "They were generally
pretty good sort of fellows. I reckon we have nothing to fear from them."
"Are you alone?" called out Dick.
"Yes."
"Then come up to the fire. But mind, no treachery."
"We don't wonder at your being on guard," said the sailor named
Gibson, a tall, thin Yankee. "The others treated you like so many dogs."
"We have deserted Lesher," put in Marny. "We came over here on the
raft to see if you wouldn't take us in."
"Were you alone?" asked Captain Blossom.
"No, we had Hackenhaven with us. But he fell overboard just after we
left the wreck, and the sharks caught him," answered Gibson, with a
bitter shake of his face.
"What did Lesher say to your leaving?" asked Tom.
"He didn't know it until after we were a hundred yards or more from
the wreck. You see, he and the others were drinking in the cabin, so
we got away without much trouble," answered Marny. "They might have
shot at us, but it was too dark for them. We had a hard pull to get
over here, and when poor Hackenhaven was gobbled up both of us felt
bad, I can tell you."
It was now seen that both sailors were almost exhausted, and Captain
Blossom allowed them to rest, while Dick prepared a pot of coffee.
While they were drinking, Gibson told them the particulars of how
the mate had made himself leader of the sailors now left on the wreck.
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