"Ten miles from the nearest land," rejoined his companion gloomily. "Might have got a crack on the head as he went overboard. I was a fool to let him remain on deck alone."
"I'm more to blame," declared Mr. Grant. "But settling the responsibility will not find him. Ahoy!" he hailed for the twentieth time.
There was not even a mocking echo in reply. The waste of darkened water, where no doubt Peter was still swimming for dear life, was an impenetrable veil. For a distance of twenty yards or so the red and green navigation lamps threw their coloured rays upon the water. Beyond that sea and sky were merged into a wall of utter darkness.
All the rest of that long night the Thetis cruised round the spot where it was supposed the yacht had been when the catastrophe occurred; then with the first streaks of red dawn in the eastern sky the Thetis bore up for Mapplewick.
CHAPTER XXV
SAFE AND SOUND
At six o'clock the Thetis, with her ensign flying at half-mast, staggered into Mapplewick Harbour. Willing hands assisted to berth her alongside the jetty—a willingness prompted by the sight of the half-masted colours, while a crowd of curious onlookers could hardly be restrained from questioning the two grey-faced men who formed the crew of the storm-beaten yacht.
Half-dazed by the magnitude of the calamity, Grant and Clifton went ashore to perform their sad duty—to report the loss of one of the crew and to telegraph the grim tidings to Craddock's parents.
At noon Mr. and Mrs. Craddock arrived by train.