He and Philpotts rowed the shallop to the packet, and lifted Neville with the sailors' help to the deck of the larger vessel. Then, and not till then, he looked about for the captain who stood facing him, and behold it was--_Richard Ingle_!
The best gift of the gods is prudence; the next best audacity. Romney Huntoon was handsomely dowered with the latter commodity, and he invoked it now in his awkward predicament. Walking up to Ingle with a smile, he stretched out his hand.
"You and I are quits," he said; "I did you a bad turn yonder at St. Mary's. You have done me a bad turn now by sinking my boat. Shall we wipe the slate and begin again?"
Huntoon's opening was happily chosen. Had he apologized, all would have been lost; but the freebooter was pleased with the boy's boldness. Yet that alone would scarcely have won the day. It was the bright eyes of Peggy Neville that lent a certain civility to his surly voice.
"If I'd known whose boat we were running down, I'd never ha' given myself the trouble to come about, for I could ha' seen you go down with her in great comfort; but since ye chanced to have this young lady aboard, I'm not sorry things fell out as they did. But that's as far as I'll go. And as for your cargo yonder, I warn you that all we save of that goes to Ingle and Company, to make good the damage to _The Reformation_."
"A bit of paint--" began Huntoon, and then turned his back and stood looking over the rail, watching the death-struggle of _The Lady Betty_. The little vessel rolled first this way and then that, shipping water in her hold at every turn.
There is a solemnity in watching a sinking ship akin to that of standing by a death-bed. As Huntoon looked, a wave of memories swept over him. He recalled the first journey he had taken aboard her, the pride of setting out with his father, the smell of tar on the ropes, as the sailors cast them loose, and the anxious face of his mother as she stood on the pier to wave a farewell. With this thought of his father and mother came the wonder how this disaster would strike them. He dreaded their consternation at the loss, but he felt sure of their sympathy. Blessed is the son who holds to that, let come what may.