Greer paused in his work to wave a hand, which was extremely sociable for him. The men bunched on the forward pontoon, waved and shouted at the little boat. As the noise grew louder, questions shaped themselves in the uproar.
“W'ot did ye make of 'er?” “Was there anywan aboard?” “W'ot ship is she?” “Can we git a berth hoff this bloomin' dock?”
Madden held up his hands for silence and shouted a reply.
“We have a meal for you—a dinner!”
A great shouting and cheering broke out at this. It is strange how much more pressing is the small need of a dinner than the large need of a rescue. The mystery of the schooner was overlooked in a sight of the plates and victuals.
“Oh, look, there it is—bread and meat!” “And, say, ain't that fish?” “And that goose or something!”
Eager hands reached down as Madden and Caradoc handed up the platters. “To the mess room, to the mess room!” directed Leonard.
“Sure, sure, we wouldn't touch a mouthful for hanything!” cried Mulcher earnestly.
