Leslie did so, somewhat reluctantly, since he felt certain that it was only raising false hopes. One and all were agreed that Ranworth was imagining the noise.
"And I don't like the idea of having to disillusion him," said the lad ruefully.
A quarter of an hour passed. The injured man still persisted in his belief.
Suddenly there was a lull in the wind. Borne faintly through the clear air came the dull booming of a steamship's whistle.
"Hurrah!" shouted the men in chorus. "That's the Polarity. We're saved."
"She's ten miles off if she's a yard," declared Johnson. "It will take her an hour at least to come up to the anchorage."
The overjoyed men were on the tiptoe of expectancy. A quarter of an hour went by, but no further signals came from the approaching vessel. Perhaps, after all——
The merest suggestion of disappointed hopes appalled them.
Again, this time ever so much louder, the welcome wail of the siren was heard. This time there could be no doubt. The ship, whatever she was, was ascending the inlet.
Soon the waiting men could detect the thud of the engines and the thrash of the powerful propellers. Then, gliding majestically round the last bend, came the Polarity. Her engines were reversed, and as the ship gathered sternway her anchor plunged with a sudden splash to the bed of the inlet.