“Never can tell,” says he. “Wonder if they pulled the dink up on the davits?”
“Dunno,” says I.
We were back on the after-deck by this time, and Catty started feeling for a line. “It’s here,” says he. “The dink’s towing astern.”
“What about it?” says I.
“We’re going off in her,” says he.
“In this storm?”
“You bet.”
“All right,” says I, “if you aren’t scairt to do it, why, I guess I can stick along. But I don’t like it.”
“Shucks,” says he. “Pull in on the line.”
We pulled and got the dink right under the stern. “Get in,” says he, “while I hold her.”