"Aye," Bobby gasped.
Eli waited for a moment longer. He was loath to leave the boy to take care of himself. Until then he had not known how large a place in his heart his little partner filled, how much he had come to depend upon him for all those things which make life worth while. He had not known, indeed, how far away from the old, lonely life the lad had led him. So he waited for a moment longer, watching Bobby. Then he swam to the overturned dory, where, after an anxious glance towards the lad, he dived to cut away the gear—and dived again, and yet again; watching Bobby all the time he was at the surface for breath.
The gear cut away, the mast pulled from its socket, Eli righted the boat. It takes a strong man and clever swimmer to do that; but Eli was clever in the water, and strong anywhere. Moreover, it was a trick he had learned.
"Come, Bobby, b'y!" he called.
Bobby swam towards the boat. Eli swam to meet him, and helped him over the last few yards of choppy sea, for the lad was almost exhausted. Bobby laid a hand on the bow of the dory. Then Eli pulled off one of his long boots, and swam to the stern, where he began cautiously to bail the boat. When she was light enough in the water, he helped Bobby aboard, and Bobby bailed her dry.
"Ha, lad!" Eli ejaculated, with a grin that made his face shine. "You is safe aboard. How is you, b'y?"
"Tired, Eli," Bobby answered.
"You bide quiet where you is," said Eli. "I'll find the paddles; an' I'll soon have you home."
Eli's great concern had been to get the boy out of the water. He had cared for little else than that—to get him out of the reach of the sea. And now he was confronted by the problem of making harbour. The boat was slowly drifting out with the wind; the dusk was approaching; and every moment it was growing more difficult to swim in the choppy sea. It took him a long time to find the paddles.