The chain was nearly all out before Andrew thought she had enough, and while she rolled and tumbled on the swell a splash of oars came out of the dark. Then a white gig loomed up alongside, and he and Whitney jumped on board as the crew backed away. They had to wait a minute or two close to the steamer's side, until a smooth undulation lapped the lurching hull, when they seized the ladder and scrambled up.
Rankine took them into a small, teak-paneled room with a brass stove in a corner. It was remarkably neat, though a cushioned locker, a small table, and two camp-chairs comprised the furniture. Nautical instruments occupied a rack, and a large chart of the Irish Sea was spread upon the table. Rankine put a bottle of wine and some cigarettes on the chart, and then hung up his wet oilskins.
"We're safe here so long as the wind keeps to the west; and I can give you a berth if your cabin's wet," he said.
"No, thanks," replied Andrew. "It's an exposed coast."
He tasted the wine Rankine poured out and lighted a cigarette. Whitney said nothing, and there was silence for a time. Rankine waited, with a polite smile.
"What are you doing near King William's Bank?" Andrew asked presently; and the others knew that his question was more to the purpose than appeared.
"Taking bearings and sounding, until the sea got up. I've made one or two interesting discoveries about that shoal."
Although he sympathized with Andrew, Whitney felt amused, for he saw that Rankine would do nothing to help him.
"You gave us a long run," Andrew said. "We would have got better shelter in Ramsey Bay."
"That's true. I preferred this place."