"Well, you're close home now, and as safe as eggs in a basket."
Another minute brought us into as shallow water as I cared to go. Accordingly, heaving to, I brought the dinghy alongside, and we got into her. Then casting off, I pulled my lord ashore. A small, clean-shaven, parsonish-looking man, with the regulation white choker, stood by the water waiting for us. As I beached the boat he came forward and said:
"My lord, we have been very anxious about you. We feared you had met with an accident."
"I have been very nearly drowned, Mr. Baxter. Had it not been for this gentleman's prompt assistance I should never have reached home again."
"You should really be more careful, my lord. I have warned you before. Your father has been nearly beside himself with anxiety about you!"
"Eh?" said I to myself. "Somehow this does not sound quite right. Anyhow, Mr. Baxter, I've seen your figure-head somewhere before—but you were not a missionary then, I'll take my affidavit."
Turning to me, my young lord held out his hand.
"You have never told me your name," he said almost reproachfully.
"Dick Hatteras," I answered, "and very much at your service."
"Mr. Hatteras, I shall never forget what you have done for me. That I am most grateful to you I hope you will believe. I know that I owe you my life."