second mate, Mr. William Rames.

"Let me take a spell in your place," says he. "And look you out for the
Long-boat astern. The last time she rose on the crest of a wave, I
thought I made out a signal flying aboard her."

We shifted our places, clumsily and slowly enough, for we were both of us
weak and dazed with wet, cold, and hunger. I waited some time, watching
the heavy rollers astern, before the Long-boat rose a-top of one of them
at the same time with us. At last, she was heaved up for a moment well
in view, and there, sure enough, was the signal flying aboard of her--a
strip of rag of some sort, rigged to an oar, and hoisted in her bows.

"What does it mean?" says Rames to me in a quavering, trembling sort of
voice. "Do they signal a sail in sight?"

"Hush, for God's sake!" says I, clapping my hand over his mouth. "Don't
let the people hear you. They'll all go mad together if we mislead them
about that signal. Wait a bit, till I have another look at it."

I held on by him, for he had set me all of a tremble with his notion of a
sail in sight, and watched for the Long-boat again. Up she rose on the
top of another roller. I made out the signal clearly, that second time,
and saw that it was rigged half-mast high.

"Rames," says I, "it's a signal of distress. Pass the word forward to
keep her before the sea, and no more. We must get the Long-boat within
hailing distance of us, as soon as possible."

I dropped down into my old place at the tiller without another word--for