Then again:
“Ahoy—ah!”
He went on baling till no more water could be thrown out, and the boat drifted slowly on with the tide.
Away to their left there rose the lamp-lit windows and the pier light. Lower down, too, were a couple of dim red lamps, one above the other, telling of the little dock; but no answer came from the shore.
“There’s sure to be some one on the cliff, Josh; hail again,” said Will.
“Ay, if we had a flare now, we should bring out the life-boat to fetch us in,” cried Josh. “Why, Will lad, we shall be taken a mile away from the town, and perhaps out to sea again. I wish I had an oar.”
“Ahoy—ah!”
Then again and again; and still there was no response, while they drifted slowly on over the sea, which looked to Dick, as he gazed down into its depths, alive with tiny stars, and these not the reflections of those above.
“Ahoy—ah!” shouted Josh again, with all the power of his stentorian lungs.
“They’re all asleep,” he growled; “we shall have to drift ashore and walk home. If I only had one oar I’d scull her back in no time. Ahoy—ah!”