“They must do without them.  I fancy oil and skins are not very much in demand among the moonites, Stephen.  What’s that, off here to the eastward, eh?  East-and-by north-half-east, or so?”

“I see what you mean, sir.  It does look wonderfully like a sail, and a sail pretty well surrounded by ice, too!”

There was no mistake in the matter.  The white canvass of a vessel was plainly visible, over a vast breadth of field-ice, a little to the northward of the island that lay directly opposite the cove.  Although the sails of this stranger were spread, it was plain enough he was closely beset, if not actually jammed.  From the first instant he saw the strange craft, Roswell had not a doubt of her character.  He felt convinced it was his late consort, the Sea Lion of the Vineyard, which had found her way to the group by means of some hint that had fallen into Daggett’s hands, if not by a positive nautical instinct.  So great had been his own success, however, and so certain did he now feel of filling up in due season, that he cared much less for this invasion on his privacy than he would have done a fortnight earlier.  On the contrary, it might be a good thing to have a consort in the event of any accident occurring to his own vessel.  From the moment, then, that Gardiner felt certain of the character of the strange sail, his policy was settled in his own mind.  It was to receive his old acquaintance with good will, and to help fill him up too, as soon as he had secured his own cargo, in order that they might sail for home in company.  By his aid and advice, the other schooner might save a week in time at that most important season of the year; and by the experience and exertions of his people, a whole month in filling up might readily be gained.

All thoughts of climbing the peak were at once abandoned; and, in fifteen minutes after the sail was seen, Roswell and Stephen both came panting down to the house; so much easier is it to descend in this world than to mount.  A swivel was instantly loaded and fired as a signal; and, in half an hour, a boat was manned and ready.  Roswell took command himself, leaving his second mate to look after the schooner.  Stimson went with his captain, and in less than one hour after he had first seen the strange sail, our hero was actually pulling out of the cove, with a view to go to her assistance.  Roswell Gardiner was as good-hearted a fellow as ever lived.  He had a sufficient regard for his own interests, as well as for those of others entrusted to his care; but, these main points looked after, he would cheerfully have worked a month to relieve the Vineyard-men from the peril that so plainly beset them.  Setting his sails the instant the boat was clear of the rocks, away he went, then, as fast as ash and canvass could carry him, which was at a rate but little short of eight knots in the hour.