“We were trying to get home when the fog closed in on us,” replied Gerald.
“I see. Well, what do you want us to do with you? Put you aboard your launch or take you with us? We can’t tow that boat of yours, of course, but she’ll be picked up sooner or later, I guess. We’re bound for New Haven.”
“There she is, sir,” announced one of the sailors as the launch appeared through the fog.
“Just put us aboard her, if you please,” said Gerald. “We’ll be all right, thank you. It was very kind of you to pick us up.”
The officer laughed. He was a fine-looking chap of twenty-one or two, bronzed and blue-eyed. “Well, we couldn’t do much less, I guess. Glad things didn’t turn out any worse, boys. Live around here, do you?”
“Wissining,” answered Harry. “We go to school there; Yardley Hall, you know.”
“What’s your boat, please?” asked Gerald.
“Conomoit, Captain Livingstone; Newport News.”
“And what line, sir?”
“Blue Cross Line. Say, you’re a bit particular, ain’t you, about who pulls you out of the water? Or are you going to sue for damages? Anything else you’d like to know?” And the officer’s blue eyes twinkled.