He had no time to pursue the thought, however, for at that moment he heard the clang of a gong, and an ambulance came dashing out on the pier just as the moorings of the Bertha Hamilton were about to be cast off.
Drew's first thought was that an accident had happened, and he hurried over to the starboard rail. The ambulance had stopped, and two white-clad attendants were helping out a man who had been reclining on a mattress within. They stood him on one foot while they slipped a pair of crutches under his arms. The man lifted his head, and, with a yell of delight, Drew leaped to the wharf.
It was Tyke Grimshaw! Pale and haggard the old man looked, but his indomitable spirit was still in evidence and his eyes twinkled with the old whimsical smile.
"Hurrah!" yelled Drew.
The cry was echoed by Captain Hamilton, who had likewise leaped from the taffrail to the pier.
"Didn't expect to see me, eh?" queried Tyke, while the ambulance men stood by, grinning.
"No, I didn't," roared Captain Hamilton, gripping him by one hand while Drew held the other. "But I can't tell you how glad I am that you made up your mind to come."
"We might have known you'd get here if you had to walk on your hands," cried Drew jubilantly.
"Had to fight like the mischief to get them doctors to let me come," chortled Tyke, evidently delighted by the warmth of the greeting. "They told me I was jest plumb crazy to think of it. But after Allen, here, left me last night I got so lonesome an' restless there was no holding me. Seemed like I'd go wild if I'd had to stay in that sick-bay while you fellers were sniffing the sea air. So I jest reared up on my hind legs, as you might say, an' they had to let me come."
"And you got here just in the nick of time," said the captain. "Ten minutes more and we'd have been slipping down the river."