Up the Baltic; or, Young America in Norway, Sweden, and Denmark

“Boat on the weather bow, sir!” shouted the lookout on the top-gallant forecastle of the Young America.

“Starboard!” replied Judson, the officer of the deck, as he discovered the boat, which was drifting into the track of the ship.

“Starboard, sir!” responded the quartermaster in charge of the wheel.

“Steady, sir,” repeated the quartermaster.

By this time a crowd of young officers and seamen had leaped upon the top-gallant forecastle, and into the weather rigging, to obtain a view of the little boat, which, like a waif on the ocean, was drifting down towards the coast of Norway. It contained only a single person, who was either a dwarf or a boy, for he was small in stature. He lay upon a seat near the stern of the boat, with his feet on the gunwale. He was either asleep or dead, for though the ship had approached within hail, he neither moved nor made any sign. The wind was light from the southward, and the sea was quite calm.

“What do you make of it, Ryder?” called the officer of the deck to the second master, who was on duty forward.

“It is a flat-bottomed boat, half full of water, with a boy in it,” answered Ryder.

“Hail him,” added the officer of the deck.

“Boat, ahoy!” shouted Ryder, at the top of his lungs.