The little punt had been long out of sight ere the news reached them, and the wind had increased to a gale.

But Barney O'Flannagan questioned Bob Croaker closely, and took particular note of the point of the compass at which Martin had disappeared; and when the _Firefly_ at length got under weigh, he climbed to the fore-top cross-trees, and stood there scanning the horizon with an anxious eye.
It was getting dark, and a feeling of despair began to creep over the seaman's heart as he gazed round the wide expanse of water, on which nothing was to be seen except the white foam that crested the rising billows.
"Starboard, hard!" he shouted suddenly.
"Starboard it is!" replied the man at the wheel, with prompt obedience.
In another moment Barney slid down the back-stay and stood on the deck, while the ship rounded to and narrowly missed striking a small boat that floated keel up on the water.

There was no cry from the boat; and it might have been passed as a mere wreck, had not the lynx eye of Barney noticed a dark object clinging to it.
"Lower away a boat, lads," cried the Irishman, springing overboard; and the words had scarcely passed his lips when the water closed over his head.
The _Firefly_ was hove to, a boat was lowered and rowed towards Barney, whose strong voice guided his shipmates towards him.

In less than a quarter of an hour the bold sailor and his young friend Martin Rattler were safe on board, and the ship's head was again turned out to sea.
It was full half an hour before Martin was restored to consciousness in the forecastle, to which his deliverer had conveyed him.
"Musha, lad, but ye're booked for the blue wather now, an' no mistake!" said Barney, looking with an expression of deep sympathy at the poor boy, who sat staring before him quite speechless.

"The capting'll not let ye out o' this ship till ye git to the gould coast, or some sich place.