We commenced rowing again, but before we had gone a couple of dozen yards, I heard the sound of the other boat returning.
"That you, George?" came Gran'pa's voice out of the darkness.
Molly and I let up a joint shout of affirmation.
Unaware of what had happened, Gran'pa drew near to us and announced boisterously:
"Well, George—we've got our goats all right!"
"Yes!" I said, "and I've something else that'll get your goat. One of those confounded gorillas has escaped and is in possession of the ship."
"What's that?" he barked.
I repeated the information and gave him lurid details of Molly's and Captain Morgan's miraculous escape.
"If we'd stopped with you," I observed, "instead of returning when we did, God knows what would have happened. There's a streak of luck even in our worst misfortunes."
Seldom have I seen Gran'pa as excited as he was at that moment. He spluttered inarticulately, stood up in the boat, and nearly fell overboard.