Swish! came the waves against the prow of the sloop. Overhead there was the constant song of the wind in the halyards. The only other thing Jack could hear for a while was the bell-buoy.
“What was it?” he asked after a while.
Just then a gust of wind brought across the water the squawk of a boat’s fog-horn.
Conch-conch!
“There she goes! That’s the schooner, all right,” cried Jack, swinging the wheel over and heading in the direction of the sound.
Conch-conch! It was more distinct now, the wind bringing it directly toward them.
“The tug hasn’t arrived, evidently,” Jack shouted to his companion. “Didn’t I see something away across there just now?” he added, pointing over to the starboard bow and peering into the haze.
“Yes, there she is!” he cried a few moments later, as a vague blur became visible through the rain. “And she’s the Grace and Ella, too. But what’s happened to her? There isn’t a spar standing!”
Another five-minutes’ manœuvering brought the Sea-Lark within hail of the distressed vessel, and soon she was under her lee.