“Ahoy, there! Who may you be?”
At the summit of the “cliff” appeared a head. The boy could see it blackly outlined against the star-sprinkled sky.
In his astonishment at being accosted Nat could think of nothing to reply but: “Nat Trevor of Santa Barbara. Who are you, and where am I?”
“I’m Captain Sim Braithwaite of the Pancake Shoals Lightship, and this is the Lightship. Now, if you’re tired of boating, you’d better come on board and explain yourself more explicitly.”
“The Pancake Shoals Lightship!” gasped Nat blankly. “Why, I’ve drifted much further than I thought possible.”
“Drifted!” echoed Captain Sim in a gruff voice. “For the love of Father Neptune, you don’t mean to say you’re skyhooting around the ocean without oars at one o’clock in the morning?”
“That’s just what I do,” responded Nat, with an inward chuckle at the captain’s evident amazement.
“Dear land of Beulah, you must be fond of salt water to take such cruises! A sort of sea-going lunatic, be you now?”
“I’ll come on board and explain. It’s a long story,” said Nat.
“All right; the accommodation ladder is just for’ard of where you are. Hitch yer boat up and come on board. Suffering tom-cats, I thought you was a whale or something at first! We don’t git many visitors out here, but you’re the rummest one I ever heard tell on.”