“Hello,” he said. “Just trying to keep cool?”
“Oh, Boyd!” was her answer, and one wet hand reached out and touched his.
The blue light, through deterioration or damage, flickered out. As they lifted on the smooth crest of a wave, Duncan turned to look where the Samoset made a vague blur in the darkness. No lights showed, but there was noise of confusion. He could hear Captain Dettmar's shouting above the cries of the others.
“I must say he's taking his time,” Duncan grumbled. “Why doesn't he jibe? There she goes now.”
They could hear the rattle of the boom tackle blocks as the sail was eased across.
“That was the mainsail,” he muttered. “Jibed to port when I told him starboard.”
Again they lifted on a wave, and again and again, ere they could make out the distant green of the Samoset's starboard light. But instead of remaining stationary, in token that the yacht was coming toward them, it began moving across their field of vision. Duncan swore.
“What's the lubber holding over there for!” he demanded. “He's got his compass. He knows our bearing.”
But the green light, which was all they could see, and which they could see only when they were on top of a wave, moved steadily away from them, withal it was working up to windward, and grew dim and dimmer. Duncan called out loudly and repeatedly, and each time, in the intervals, they could hear, very faintly, the voice of Captain Dettmar shouting orders.
“How can he hear me with such a racket?” Duncan complained.