“Yep. That’s Fire Island Light. I wish this confounded drizzle would stop. The swell is getting bigger and shorter. Must be a breeze of wind not far to the east of us.”
“D’you think we’re in time, Bill?”
“Yes, I think so. The weather is probably thick farther out and up the coast, and the ship will be running at reduced speed. It’s likely she’ll be an hour or so late. There is a ship out yonder, but it’s a tanker or a freighter.”
“How do you know that?”
“Why, a liner would be showing deck and cabin lights. Here comes the breeze—out of the northeast.”
“It’s raining harder, too. Ugh! What a filthy night.”
Bill nodded grimly in the darkness. “You said a mouthful. It’ll be good and sloppy out here in another hour or two. Jolly boating weather, I don’t think! And we can’t get back into the bay until daylight, I’m afraid.”
The big boat continued to pound steadily seaward and before long the lightship was close abeam. Bill ran some distance outside it, then stopped the engine.
“No use wasting gas,” he said, and emptied one of the five-gallon tins into the fuel tank.
He went into the cabin again and reappeared with two life preservers.