The starboard boat, having received her complement of passengers, shoved off; and her crew pulled for the steamer. The port boat was waiting for Dory, who was standing at the bow, behind the foresail. He had the boat-hook in his hand, but he did not indicate in what manner he intended to use it. The fresh breeze was beginning to blow in the Gut, though the Goldwing was sheltered from its full force by the land.
"I am waiting for you, Theodore," called Captain Gildrock.
"I am not going, sir," replied Dory in a mild, but very decided, tone.
"Not going? Didn't you hear me say that I came down here after you?" asked the captain, evidently much surprised at the boy's answer.
"I can't leave the boat here, sir. It is coming on to blow, and she will drift off," added Dory, struggling to suppress his emotion; for he expected a very unpleasant scene with his uncle now that the issue had been reached.
Captain Gildrock seemed to have no suspicion of the state of feeling to which his nephew had wrought himself up. He appeared to think that his invitation to go on board of the Sylph was enough, and the present attitude of the boy was clearly a surprise to him. It was plain that he had not thought of the schooner, for he was silent when Dory intimated that she was not in a safe position for heavy weather.
"You can furl her sails, and throw over her anchor," said he after a moment's consideration.
"I don't think the anchor will hold her, sir: the sand is as hard as a rock here."
"Isn't she aground?"
"She was aground, sir."