"That's good; I'll soon be all right. I slipped when we were coming down the crag and pitched over the edge of the steep bottom part."
"He thinks he hit his head," Whitney added.
Andrew felt Dick's head in spite of his objections.
"There is a lump, but not large. It doesn't account for the shock you seem to have got."
"If you had fallen down that rock, I don't suppose you'd feel very fit. But give me a cigarette and ask Jim to tell you what we saw."
Andrew gave him the cigarette and then looked out the scuttle. A breeze had got up, blowing off the land, and the yacht was drifting seaward with her loose mainsail flapping and her jib aback. She would need no attention; so he closed the hatch and sat down to listen to Whitney's story.
"Do you think they heard Dick fall?" he asked.
"I can't say. It's possible, though the swell was breaking noisily on the beach."
"It's a curious affair," said Andrew. "I saw the light and was glad I'd kept the boat in the gloom of the island. It certainly looks as if the steamer that put her lights out and the whammel boat that crept in to the land at dusk had some connection with each other. Then I thought I heard oars shortly before you came off."
"Suppose the boatmen had meant to signal the vessel, why should they land when they could have lighted a flare on board?"