“I see it. There's a light at Trumet Neck, ain't there?”
“Humph! It's been years since I was there, but I thought Trumet light was steady. However—”
“Ain't that the wharf ahead?”
Sure enough, out of the dark loomed the bulk of a small wharf, with catboats at anchor near it. Higher up, somewhere on the shore, were the lighted windows of a building.
“By thunder, we're here!” exclaimed Sam, and drew a long breath.
Issy shut off the power altogether, and the Lady May slid easily up to the wharf. Feverishly her skipper made her fast.
“Yes, sir!” he cried exultantly. “We're here. And no Black Rover nor anybody else ever done a better piece of steerin' than that, nuther.”
He clambered over the stringpiece, right at the heels of his impatient but grateful passenger. Sam's thanks were profuse and sincere.
“I'll never forget it, Is,” he declared. “I'll never forget it. And you'll have to let me pay you the—What makes you shake so?”
Issy pulled his arm away and stepped back.