“I reckon where they go I’m going too,” Halstead told himself with great satisfaction. His clothing, filled with water, would have been uncomfortable, even dangerous, had he attempted to swim far, but as it was the launch’s engine was doing all the work. Tom simply allowed his rather buoyant body to be towed. None the less the speed of the towing, so greatly in excess of a swimmer’s speed, began to tell upon his endurance. Later that cabin sloop was briefly in the boy’s sight. Halstead was forced to lower his head all he could in the water, but Captain French, having no reason to scan the launch’s water line, did not happen to detect the strange “tow.” As the two boats went alongside it was the launch’s starboard bow that touched, so that Tom, at port, was in no danger of being seen from the other craft.
Nor was the young motor boat captain again in sight after the two craft parted. Pedro’s slower speed, making for the cove, came as a huge relief to the “boy overboard.”
While the anchor was being dropped, Halstead had opportunity to see how wild and deserted a bit of nature the surroundings were. There was not a house or other sign of human habitation anywhere in sight.
While Pedro sat up forward, smoking, a voice sounded that thrilled Captain Tom Halstead with instant wonder.
“Hullo, Pedro! What a nap I must have had.”
“Yo’ shuahly did sleep fast, chile.”
“I’m coming out, now.”
“Ef yo’ do, young boss, be kyahful,” warned the black man.
“Oh, there’s no one around here to see me,” contended that other voice, and now it sounded as though the owner were in the bow of the craft.
“Ef Ah done thought Ah could trust yo’ Ah’d tuhn in in dat forrad cubby mahself,” declared the negro. “Ah’s powahful drowsy.”