With one sweep of his arm Frank drew the little fellow into the dinghy.
Then he snatched up his paddle, and dipped it deeply into the flood. The corklike boat answered instantly to the demand, and backed away from the side of the anchored sharpie.
Even though but a few seconds had passed, the racket aboard the boat had become tremendous by now. The men were shouting at each other as they groped around in the dark for the boy.
Frank knew that the very sounds they made were apt to assist him in his escape, for they helped to drown what little noise he was compelled to make in his quick and positive work with the paddle.
Then one of them must have reached the conclusion that the boy had been kidnapped by some unseen visitor, coming in another boat.
"Keep still, you fools, an' listen!" he shouted.
They seemed to guess his reason, for the chorus of loud voices ceased. Frank also stopped paddling, momentarily. He hoped the listening spongers would be unable to locate him in the darkness.
"Have they any small boat?" he whispered in the ear of the cowering boy.
"No. It broke loose three days ago, in a squall," came the reply.
"Bully!"