That captive was a mystery to Frank. Surely it was not the girl they had seen on the vessel. It was a man, but not a word had Frank heard him speak.
The thought that he might be gagged came to Merriwell. Perhaps that was why he remained so silent.
The schooner was reached at last. There was a hail from the boat, answered from on deck, and then a line came down from above, was caught, and they were alongside.
Frank remained quiet for a little time after the men had left the boat. At last, he stirred, for he was in a most uncomfortable position, cramped and aching in every limb.
With great caution, Merry pulled the tarpaulin off him and got a breath of fresh air. It had ceased raining, and it did not seem as if the wind was blowing as hard as it had been.
“Short storm,” Frank decided; “but it was long enough to raise the Old Nick with us and send Bart Hodge to the bottom. Poor Bart! I’ll never see him more!”
The thought made Frank sick at heart, and, for some moments, he remained there motionless, benumbed by this fresh sense of the loss of his friend.
Merry knew Bart had regarded him as a hero. He had reached out his hand and steadied Hodge more than once when the dark-faced, passionate lad was tottering on the brink of a precipice. His hand had guided Bart’s wavering footsteps into the path of honor, and for his sake Hodge had studied for months that he might be in condition to pass the examination and enter Yale that spring.
And now he was gone!
No wonder Frank was sick and numb. After a time he aroused himself and sat up.