In the meanwhile both Bob and Dan had taken to their bunks and had succeeded in getting to sleep. And so it was Nelson who discovered that the fog was lifting when, his “fiddling” completed, he put his head out of the door to toss a bunch of very dirty waste overboard. As the easiest way to awaken the sleepers he gave a long blast on the whistle. The effect was almost magical. Dan jumped clear out of the bunk and landed very wide-awake in the middle of the floor. Bob managed to escape with a bump on the side of his head. After recovering themselves they descended wrathfully on Nelson, demanding explanations. Nelson, wedged in a corner between the engine and the ice box, explained and was permitted to adjust his rumpled attire. Whereupon all went out to the dripping cockpit and watched the land appear slowly before them out of the gray void. It was like watching the development of a negative in the dark-room. At first there was a blank expanse of gray. Then a shadow appeared, dark and formless. Then a bit of the low-lying shore stood out boldly, its colors still blurred by the dissolving mist. And presently the sun appeared in the west, a hazy orange disk at the end of a funnel of orange light. And then, in an instant, the fog was nowhere to be seen save that here and there on an inland hillside a wisp of gray, like a floating veil, hung entangled amidst trees or bowlders. And with the returning sunlight came a brisk breeze from the south that stirred the oily surface of the water into tawny ripples that began to lap cheerfully against the hull of the Vagabond. Dan started to whistle blithely.
A few minutes later the launch was speeding back across the bar, bound for the little cove where they had left Tom. That young gentleman’s fate had not greatly bothered his friends, although there had been throughout the day much idle speculation as to his probable whereabouts. Tom could look after himself, said Dan, and the others agreed. But when they reached the cove and the little beach with the blackened embers disfiguring the clean gravel and saw no Tommy they were at once surprised and disappointed. Bob was even inclined to be indignant.
“Where the dickens has he gone to?” he asked. “He might have known we’d be back for him as soon as the fog cleared away.”
“Well, I suppose we could hardly expect him to spend the day here waiting for us,” said Nelson. “Probably he found a house where he could get dry and have something to eat. As we can’t see any from here maybe he had to go quite a ways. We’ll wait a while and see if he doesn’t turn up.”
“Bet you he’s asleep in the best bed in the house,” laughed Dan. “We’ll be lucky if he turns up before to-morrow noon. Tommy’s just as likely as not to sleep the clock around if there’s nobody there to wake him up!”
“I suppose,” said Bob, “we might as well have something to eat while we wait.” But Dan demurred.
“No, let’s go back to New London and get a good feed. We’ll wait until six-thirty and if he doesn’t show up by that time—Say, maybe he’s gone back to New London himself!”
“I’ll bet he has,” Nelson agreed. “Let’s go and see.”
So they returned up the broad twilit stream and made their former berth near the ferry slip. A hasty toilet followed and then they hurried up the street to the hotel. But no Tommy awaited them. The clerk assured them that no one answering to the description which they gave had been seen that day. Nor did the register show Tom’s elegant handwriting. But after the first moment of disappointment they comforted themselves with the assurance that the missing member of the crew was quite safe somewhere, and went in to dinner. Nor did anxiety over Tom’s fate interfere with their appetites.
Up until bedtime they expected at any moment to see Tom stumble down the steps, and when, at half-past nine, lights went out it was unanimously decided to leave the hatch unlocked in case he should turn up during the night. Once, along toward morning, Bob was dimly aware of some one moving about the cabin.