oar, light though it was, with which he sculled his punt cleverly along.

"Shove alongside, like a good fellow; we want your boat for a little to
row out a bit."

"It's a-blowin' too hard," squeaked the small boy, as he ranged
alongside. "I'm afeared you'll be blowed out."

"Nonsense!" cried Bob Croaker, grasping the rope which the boy threw to
him. "Jump on board, younker; we don't want you to help us, and you're
too heavy for ballast. Slip down the side, Martin, and get in while I
hold on to the rope. All right? now I'll follow. Here, shrimp, hold the
rope till I'm in, and then cast off. Look alive!"

As Bob spoke, he handed the rope to the little boy; but, in doing so, let
it accidentally slip out of his hand.

"Catch hold o' the main chains, Martin,--quick!"

But Martin was too late. The current that swept out of the harbour
whirled the light punt away from the ship's side, and carried it out
seaward. Martin instantly sprang to the oar, and turned the boat's head
round. He was a stout and expert rower, and would soon have regained the
ship; but the wind increased at the moment, and blew in a squall off
shore, which carried him further out despite his utmost efforts. Seeing
that all further attempts were useless, Martin stood up and waved his
hand to Bob Croaker, shouting as he did so, "Never mind, Bob, I'll make
for the South Point. Run round and meet me, and we'll row back together."

The South Point was a low cape of land which stretched a considerable