He had not far to go, for he met the old sailor stumbling his way through the dark half-way down the path. Even his dull old ears had heard the change in the bell-buoy’s voice, and he had come in such haste that he still carried his lighted pipe in one hand and the bundle of papers he had been reading in the other.
“Did you see anything? Did you hear anything?” he demanded as Billy came to his side. Before the boy could answer, Sally’s quick feet came pattering behind him.
“There is a boat,” she cried. “I heard oars! Oh, come quickly.”
When, however, they all three arrived upon the beach there was nothing to be heard except ripples lapping quietly against the sand. A little breeze had arisen, but here, inside the point, the water was still very smooth. Over to the right they could see the lights of the hotel; beyond, a little further around the curve of the bay, the clustered, twinkling lamps of the village. Above, on the hill, Billy could see the shining pointed windows of the little church and could even distinguish the sound of a hymn tune that came drifting down to them. But here upon the shore all was utterly silent, while no amount of peering through the blind dark could give any clue as to what manner of ship might be swinging at her anchor out yonder in the tide. Sally assured them in excited whispers that she could not have been mistaken, but the old Captain made no reply, as he alternately puffed fiercely upon his pipe or let it go out. He had just pulled out his match box to relight it for the third time when Billy touched his arm.
“I hear it,” he whispered. “Listen.”
The monotonous creak of rowlocks was plainly to be heard now, and the quiet dip and splash of oars as they rose and fell.
“But—but—they are coming from over toward the village: they are going past us,” Sally exclaimed. “What can that mean?”
It was puzzlingly true that the sound seemed to be moving parallel to the shore and was beginning to pass them. What was even more bewildering was that suddenly the dipping oars stopped entirely and there came across the water the sound of low voices, more than one speaking at a time, as though in heated argument. The three looked at each other in mystified astonishment.
“I think—” began Sally but never got any further. A voice rose suddenly out of the darkness, a man’s voice, but shouting so loud and high that it was almost a scream.
“No,” they heard. “No, no, I will not go!”