Their cries pealed out together. They were heard. An answering hail came back. Soon the puff-puff-puff of the Barracouta's exhaust was driving rivets through the fog. A little later they were on board the sloop, answering the inquiries of Jim and Budge, while the empty pea-pod towed astern.
"Your seamanship wasn't bad, Perce," was Jim's judgment. "After you dropped the buoy, and then found you'd been rowing into the teeth of the wind, it might have been better to have tried only to hold your own until we came out to look you up. That breeze at first was nearer north than northeast, and when you ran before it you went south past the island. After that you were all at sea. But I might have done just the same thing. I can't tell you, though, how glad we are to see you back, even if it did cost next to our last shell of birdshot. The Gulf of Maine's a pretty homesick place to be kicking round in on a foggy night."
"You aren't any gladder than we are," replied Percy.
He glanced at the pea-pod towing astern.
"But say, Jim! Just cast your eye over that tub. When it comes to catching lobsters, haven't Filippo and I got the rest of the bunch beat to a frazzle?"
XIV
SWORDFISHING
All through July the Tarpaulin Islanders had been troubled with dogfish. Beginning with a few scattering old "ground dogs," which apparently live on the banks the year round, they had become more and more numerous as the month advanced. Bait was stripped from the hooks; fish on the trawl were devoured until only heads and backbones were left; and the robbers themselves were caught in increasing numbers. At last their depredations became unbearable.