A sickening feeling of disappointment began to creep over me at the fear that there was no one on board.
“Sheer down alongside, Jack,” I whispered.
No one challenged us as we dropped under the lee of the hull. I fended the Firefly off with my hands and then worked her round under the stern.
Here was confirmation of my fear in the disconcerting discovery that the launch, which I had confidently expected to find either astern or alongside, was not there.
“There’s no one on her, Ralph,” said Burroughs.
“I shall get aboard and see. Drop astern and then circle round at a distance to the bow.”
We drifted far enough for our little propeller to be out of earshot and then made a sweep round to the bow.
“What do you think it means?” he whispered.
“I’m afraid I’ve backed the wrong horse. But I can’t think of anywhere else for that launch to go. When I get aboard stand off up the bay so that you can keep a look-out for me. The reflection of the city light in the sky will be enough for you to see any signal I make to you.”
“You can do better than that. Take the electric torch. You can show a light then even if you have to swim for it.”