The New England seaman whipped up his glass and steadied it upon the
bulwark.

"Ay, it's a boat," said he, "but an empty one. Maybe it's been washed
off from some ship, or gone adrift from shore. Put her hard down, Mr.
Tomlinson, for it just so happens that I am in need of a boat at
present."

Half a minute later the _Golden Rod_ had swung round and was running
swiftly down towards the black spot which still bobbed and danced upon
the waves. As they neared her they could see that something was
projecting over her side.

"It's a man's head!" cried Amos Green.

But Ephraim Savage's grim face grew grimmer. "It's a man's foot," said
he. "I think that you had best take the gal below to the cabin."

Amid a solemn hush they ran alongside this lonely craft which hung out
so sinister a signal. Within ten yards of her the foreyard was hauled
aback and they gazed down upon her terrible crew.

She was a little thirteen-foot cockle-shell, very broad for her length
and so flat in the bottom that she had been meant evidently for river or
lake work. Huddled together beneath the seats were three folk, a man in
the dress of a respectable artisan, a woman of the same class, and a
little child about a year old. The boat was half full of water and the
woman and child were stretched with their faces downwards, the fair
curls of the infant and the dark locks of the mother washing to and fro
like water-weeds upon the surface. The man lay with a slate-coloured