“Why, none at all. Who could sleep through that storm?”
“I’ll answer for myself,” said the doctor; “I could not. Well, you were completely tired out, and are half dreaming now. Come along; let’s find the boat and get on board for a light supper and a good night’s rest.”
“Yes, uncle,” said Rodd quietly; “but take care; we are on the wharf. I can make out the shipping plainly now;” and as he spoke a familiar hail came out of the darkness, while as they answered the captain strode towards them.
“Thought you were lost, gentlemen. Been waiting half-an-hour. Take care; the boat’s down here;” and striding along the top of the harbour wall the skipper led the way to the descending steps, where the boat was waiting, and they were rowed aboard.
An hour later Rodd was plunged in the deepest of deep sleeps, but dreaming all the same of the storm and of getting into difficulties with some one who was constantly running against him and whispering softly, “Pardon!”
Chapter Fourteen.
The Suspicious Craft.
“Oh, I say, Uncle Paul, isn’t it horrible?” cried Rodd the next morning.