Then I grew half-blind with my eyes staring back at the wall of haze; and then, as I felt that I should die if I strained much longer at that oar, I heard the captain shout: "In oars!" and I found that we were alongside the schooner, and close under her lee.
There was just time to get on board, and we were in the act of hauling up the boat, when, with an awful whistle and shriek, the storm was upon us, and we were all clinging for life to that which was nearest at hand.
Now, I daresay you would like me to give you a faithful account of my impressions of that storm, and those of one who went through it from the time that the hurricane struck us till it passed over, leaving the sky clear, the sun shining, and the sea heaving slowly and without a single crest.
I feel that I can do justice to the theme, so here is my faithful description of that storm.
_A horrid wet, stifling, flogging row_.
That's all I can recollect.

That's all I'm sure that the doctor could recollect, or the captain or anybody else.

We were just about drowned and stunned, and when we came to ourselves it was because the storm had passed over.
"What cheer, ho!" shouted the captain, and we poor flogged and drenched objects sat up and looked about us, to find that the waves had lifted the schooner off the rocks, and driven her a long way out of her course; that the sails that had been set were blown to ribbons; and finally that the schooner, with the last exception, was very little the worse for the adventure.
"She ain't made no water much," said the captain, after going below; "and--here, I say, where's that Malay scoundrel ?" "Down in the cabin--locked in," said an ill-used voice; and I rubbed the salt-water out of my eyes, and stared at the tall thin figure before me, leaning up against the bulwark as if his long thin legs were too weak to support his long body, though his head was so small that it could not have added very much weight.
"Why, hallo! Who the blue jingo are you ?" roared the skipper.
The tall thin boy wrinkled up his forehead, and did not answer.
"Here, I say, where did you spring from ?" roared the captain.
The tall thin boy took one hand out of his trousers' pocket with some difficulty, for it was so wet that it clung, and pointed down below.
The skipper scratched his head furiously, and stared again.
"Here, can't you speak, you long-legged thing ?" he cried.

"Who are you ?" "Why, it's Jack Penny!" I exclaimed.
"Jack who ?" cried the captain.
"Jack Penny, sir.

His father is a squatter about ten miles from our place." "Well, but how came _he_--I mean that tall thin chap, not his father--to be squatting aboard my schooner ?" "Why, Jack," I said, "when did you come aboard ?" "Come aboard ?" he said slowly, as if it took him some time to understand what I said.