CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE MATE SHOWS HIS HAND Captain Blossom had taken the spyglass along, and as they drew closer to the wreck he gazed long and earnestly at the men walking the deck of the _Golden Wave_.
"They are my crew," he announced at last.

"And they are in tatters." "They must have had a hard time of it since you were cast ashore," said Dick.
"Unless I am mistaken, not a one of them is sober," went on the captain.

"They are cutting up like a band of wild Indians." Before long they were within hailing distance of those on the wreck.
Then a voice from the rail hailed them.
"Boat ahoy!" "Ahoy!" answered the captain.
"What do you want ?" demanded the sailor on the wreck.

He could scarcely talk straight.
"We want to come on board." "Sorry, cap'n, but I can't let you come aboard," answered the sailor, with something of a hiccough.
"Can't let me come aboard ?" repeated the captain.

"Why not ?" "Cause it's ag'in orders." "Whose orders ?" "Captain Lesher's." "Captain Lesher!" ejaculated Captain Blossom indignantly.