They got down on the wet floorings, and Jimmy looked over the gunwale. They were close to the yacht, and he could make out a figure or two in front of the house. As they drifted on, the figures grew plainer, and it seemed impossible that they could escape being seen. For all that, nobody hailed them, though they were near enough to hear voices and the notes of a piano. The vessel’s tall, white side seemed right above them, but they were abreast of the funnel now, and the ash hoist began to clatter; Jimmy saw the dust and steam rise as the furnace clinkers struck the sea. Still, they were drifting aft, a gray blotch on the water, and were almost level with her stern when Jimmy saw a man leaning on the rail. By the way his head was turned he was looking toward the dory, and for several anxious moments Jimmy expected his hail. It did not come; the graceful incurving of the white hull ended in the sweep of counter above the tip of a propeller blade, and the dory drifted on into the mist astern.
“Now we’ll have her round!” Moran exclaimed, with relief in his voice. “I guess you’ve got to pull.”
It was difficult to prevent her heavy load from swamping her as they approached the beach; but they ran her in safely, and, after carrying up their cargo, set off for the wreck. Their buoy was visible some distance off, for the mist was now moving out to sea; and their chief trouble was to get the awkward iron keg ashore. They had hardly done so when the steamer showed up plainly through a rift in the fog and a draught of cold air struck Jimmy’s face.
“It’s coming!” he cried. “We’ve no time to lose in getting back!”
The tide was beginning to ripple as they pulled off the beach, and the yacht was plainly disclosed, shining like ivory on the clear, green water. It did not matter now that they could be seen; their one concern was to get home before the freshening wind raised the sea. In a short time the spray was flying about the dory and frothing ridges ran up astern of her. These got steeper as they reached the shoals, and the men had hard work to hold her straight with the oars as she surged forward, uplifted, on a rush of foam. They had no time to look about, but they heard the steamer whistle to recall her boat, and presently a gasoline launch raced by, rolling wildly, through deeper water.
As they entered the channel into the bight, they met the launch coming out more slowly with the boat in tow, and somebody on board her waved his hand. Then she disappeared beyond a projecting bank, and Jimmy and Moran rowed on to the sloop.
“They were only just in time,” Bethune said as they got on board. “I suppose you saw our friend go; but if they don’t tow her carefully, it won’t be fresh water when it gets into their tank.” He paused with a laugh and showed them some silver coins. “Anyhow, we have earned something this afternoon. The fellow insisted on paying for the fish, and I thought I’d better let him.”
“It was wise,” agreed Jimmy. “Moran and I have done our share, so it’s up to you to get supper.”
While they ate it, they heard the rattle of a windlass; and, looking out through the scuttle, they saw the yacht steam away to sea.