"The smaller line, boys! Pull in! Careful!"
As the boys hauled, a figure dangled away from the vessel's side. Shoreward it swayed, now high above the wave-troughs, now dipping through a lofty crest. It dragged safely over the inside ledge, while the boys held their breaths; and presently they were unlashing a man from the boatswain's chair.
"Yes," he said in response to Jim's question, "she's the steam-yacht Barona. Belongs to Churchill Sadler of New York. One of his millionaire friends chartered her for a short trip to the Maine coast. Fifteen men aboard. I'm the mate. Came ashore first to see if this rig would work all right."
The chair was already half-way back to the vessel.
"They'll send Mr. Whittington next," continued the mate.
Percy started with surprise.
"What's that? Whittington?"
"Yes. John P., the millionaire! He's the man who hired the yacht."
"He's my father!" gasped Percy.
The mate gave an exclamation of astonishment.