Many a boat came back to the various small piers extending from the shore into the water, here and there, but none was the little “Digby Chicken.” Her owner took his place at the end of the pier and sat down to wait. Of all his boats she was the newest and prettiest. She had sailed out into the sunlight glistening with white paint, her new sail white and unstained, and on her shining hull a decoration of herring surrounding her red-lettered name. It had been the builder’s conceit to omit the name, the string of painted fish answering for it to all but “foreigners;” but as it had been built for the use of these “foreigners” or “tourists” the printed words had finally been added.
Minutes passed. Quarter-hours; an hour; two of them; even three. There was no longer any moonlight. The distant cliffs and headlands became invisible. One could only guess where the Gap strove to close the entrance to an outer world. The hotel verandah became more and more deserted, and one by one the lights in the upper windows shone out for a time, then disappeared. Gradually all lights vanished save those in the lobby and a faint glimmer from a corridor above.
Though wraps has been early sent out to the anxious watchers in the pavilion, now heavy steamer rugs were brought, to keep out that penetrating chill. The Judge had on his heaviest overcoat and yet shivered, himself covering his long legs with a thick blanket. He had made several efforts to induce Mrs. Stark to go indoors but all had failed.
The fog that was slowly rising when the boat-owner took his station on the little quay below had crept nearer and nearer into shore, and finally enveloped everything and hidden it. So dense it was that from his bench on one side the circular pavilion the Judge could barely make out the white pillars on its opposite side. A lamp had been lighted in the roof but against this Mrs. Stark had vehemently protested, because it made that wall of white mist seem closer and more impenetrable, and without it she fancied that her eye could still pierce the distance, still discover any incoming craft.
About midnight the wind rose and the fog began to thin and scatter. The boatman on the pier had long ago left it, forced off by the rising tide, and now sat floating in one of the row-boats fastened there. He had put on his oilskins and set his oars in readiness for the first sign of distress on the face of the waters; but he had about given up hope of his pretty “Digby Chicken.” That a couple of touring lads, even though one had protested that he was a good sailor, that these should come safely through a night like this seemed unlikely; but now that the wind was rising and the fog lifting, he drew his boat close under the pole at the pier’s end and lighted the lantern which swung there. There was now a chance that its gleam might be seen from beyond and there had been none before.
Then another time of waiting, which ended with the boatman pulling out from shore. The watchers above had heard nothing, had not even seen him leave, although the lantern had faintly shown him riding upon the wave, moored to the pier by a rope.
But now, rubbing her strained eyes to clear their vision Mrs. Stark broke the long silence with a cry:
“The man! He isn’t there? He’s gone—to meet them!”
She was as sure of this now as she had been before that her son was drowned, and Mrs. Hungerford slipped an arm about her waist in pity. She dared not think what the result would be of a fresh disappointment.
However, their long vigil was really ended. The trained ear of the boatman had caught a faint halloo from somewhere on the water and had rowed toward the sound with all his strength and speed. At intervals he had paused to answer and to listen—and the now swiftly dispersing fog enabled him also to see—and finally to utter a little malediction under his breath. It scarcely needed the glass he raised to show him the “Digby Chicken” riding quietly on the water not more than half a league off shore. Her sail was furled, she looked taut and trim, and he could discern a figure at her prow which raised its arms and again hallooed.