Although the man was dressed in cheap, rough clothing, he did not appear to be a suitable type for the occupation he had chosen. His hands were not those of one who worked at hard labor. Madge noticed too that he wore an expensive looking jade pin, fastened over his breast.
“There’s something wrong with the picture,” she meditated. “He must have seen better days—or else he stole that pin!”
She wished anew that she was safely aboard The Flora. The yacht was still a considerable distance away, too far for her to see anyone on deck.
“Why doesn’t he row faster?” she asked herself impatiently. “We’ll never get there at this rate.”
At her suggestion to the effect, the boatman only stared uncomprehendingly until she gave up trying to make him understand.
“He knows what I want but he’s stubborn,” she decided. “What ails him anyway? I’m certainly paying him enough for his work.”
She longed to take over the oars and show him how to row a boat. Instead, she reconciled herself to a slow trip under the broiling noonday sun and tried to become interested in a small sailboat which was tacking in toward the harbor.
At length, they drew near The Flora, approaching from the port side. Madge scanned the railing for a glimpse of her friends. The decks appeared deserted.
“Where is everyone?” she asked in surprise.
The boatman rowed alongside of the yacht and she grasped a trailing rope.