“Ay, ay, sir.”
“That boy is all right, Peyton, so there is no need of sending a boat after him,” the commodore said.
“He’s half fish,” growled the captain of the yacht.
Then all waited breathlessly, and soon came a faint hail:
“Ahoy! the yacht!”
“Ay, ay!” answered Commodore Lucien.
“I’ve landed,” and the words were greeted with a cheer from all on the deck of the Midshipman.
CHAPTER X.
UNFATHOMED.
“My God! can my son have gone out in the face of this terrible storm? It is the worst I have known upon the coast for years,” and Mrs. Merrill pressed her face against the window-glass, striving in vain to pierce the blackness without.