Jones Stumbles Over Something

I find, from my journal, that the next seven days passed without
marked incident. Several times during that period we sighted vessels,
all outward bound, and once we were within communicating distance of
a steam cargo boat on her way to Venezuela. She lay to and sent her
first mate over to see what could be done.

He was a slim little man with dark eyes and a small mustache above
a cheerful mouth. He listened in silence to my story, and shuddered
when I showed him the jolly-boat. But we were only a few days out
by that time, and, after all, what could they do? He offered to
spare us a hand, if it could be arranged; but, Adams having recovered
by that time, we decided to get along as we were. A strange sight
we must have presented to the tidy little officer in his uniform and
black tie: a haggard, unshaven lot of men, none too clean, all
suffering from strain and lack of sleep, with nerves ready to snap;
a white yacht, motionless, her sails drooping,--for not a breath of
air moved,--with unpolished brasses and dirty decks; in charge of
all, a tall youth, unshaven like the rest, and gaunt from sickness,
who hardly knew a nautical phrase, who shook the little officer's
hand with a ferocity of welcome that made him change color, and whose
uniform consisted of a pair of dirty khaki trousers and a khaki shirt,
open at the neck; and behind us, wallowing in the trough of the sea
as the Ella lay to, the jolly-boat, so miscalled, with its sinister
cargo.