“It’s ten after eight,” Mr. Holloway answered his son. “We’ll have to work a little if we expect to get in tonight.”
Reaching for a paddle, he plied it steadily. With snail-like speed the awkward-sized dinghy moved toward the twinkling lights visible on shore. With the coming of darkness, a cold, penetrating fog had closed in over the water.
“Wish I’d brought a jacket,” Dan said with a shiver. “Want me to take a turn at the paddle, Mr. Holloway?”
“No thanks, Dan, I’m good for awhile yet. I blame myself for being stranded out here. The wind was dying when we left the yacht club. So I guess we asked for trouble!”
For some time Mr. Holloway paddled in silence. Now and then a big fish would leap and plop into the water nearby. Otherwise, the river seemed unusually quiet.
Then unexpectedly from the direction of Skeleton Island came the muffled roar of a powerful motor boat engine.
Dan twisted around to gaze upstream. He could hear the sound of the motor plainly but the running lights of the approaching craft were not yet visible through the mist.
“If that boat comes this way, we’ll ask for a tow,” Mr. Holloway remarked. “Maybe we’re in luck.”
Resting on the paddle for a moment, the Den Dad allowed the dinghy to drift with the current. The roar of the motorboat engine now had increased in volume. Yet strangely, no one in the sailboat had sighted the oncoming craft.
“Can it be running without lights?” Mr. Holloway remarked somewhat anxiously. “The pilot should know better than that.”