CHAPTER XIII.
AFTER THE GALE.
It was perhaps half an hour after Lisa had carried Ruth to her room and the storm had spent its fury that a new excitement was furnished by the appearance of a flickering light near the bay shore, directly in front of the house. It was Porter who discovered it and announced the fact in tragic tones.
“A ship in distress! Mr. Dan, let’s go to the rescue.”
Mr. Danforth went to the window, and agreed that there did appear to be something wrong with a small craft which they saw dimly outlined before them. “You’re right, boy,” he exclaimed; “we’ll have to see what’s the matter. Come, Basil.” And the three took their way to the shore.
The sky was full of scudding clouds; through the rifts a star peeped once in a while, but it was evident that, although the tempest was over, the occupants of the little yacht before them were unable to land.
A survey of the scene showed that the small rowboats usually lying in the little cove had been broken from their moorings and were tossing about, drifting farther and farther away.
“I’ll have to swim for it,” declared Mr. Danforth. “Boys, you stay here, and I will swim out and capture one of those boats. Have you the boat-house key, Basil? No? Then, Porter, run to the house and get it and a lantern. Hurry back. And you two get the oars while I go for the boat.”
“Oh, let me go too, Mr. Dan!” besought Porter. But this Mr. Danforth forbade, and he was soon plunging through the surf toward the nearest boat, which he presently reached and pulled ashore, finding there the two boys ready to join him in rowing out to the larger vessel.
“Ship, ahoy!” shouted Porter, delighted to be able to hail the yacht in true sailor fashion.
“Hallo!” came the answer borne toward them.