He seemed heavy and dejected, and passed his hand across his forehead, as though he would rub away a pain there.
"Which of you fellows can handle an oar ?" Frere went on.

"There, curse you, I don't want fifty! Three'll do.

Come on now, make haste!" The heavy door clashed again, and in another instant the four "volunteers" were on deck.

The crimson glow was turning yellow now, and spreading over the sky.
"Two in each boat!" cries Blunt.

"I'll burn a blue light every hour for you, Mr.Best; and take care they don't swamp you.