“My precious!” she whispered, kissing him. “Oh, my dear little boy, to think I have you in my arms!”
“Don’t cry,” implored Sunny Boy, surprised to see tears running down her face. “I’m all right, Mother. But I didn’t catch up with my boat.”
Captain Franklin was fastening the rowboat Sunny Boy had been in to his own boat, because, as he explained to Mrs. Horton who wanted him to leave it and hurry them back to the Cove, some one might find it and think the rower had drowned.
“Besides, Jo Grimes, whose boat ’tis,” said the kind captain, “might like to use her again. All right, Bub, aren’t you?”
“Could I have a drink?” asked Sunny Boy wistfully.
“All ready and waiting for you,” responded the captain promptly. “Guess you’re hungry, too. We brought a biscuit or so along—got them in here somewhere.”
While Sunny Boy drank the cool, fresh water—and you probably have no idea how good it tasted, because you have never been as thirsty as he was—and ate his crackers, Mrs. Horton gently rubbed his sunburned little face and hands with the cold cream.
“Going to be a storm,” announced the captain, watching the gray sky. “Plenty of wind, most likely. Lucky we found the little fellow, or he might have been blown pretty far out.”
The wind began to blow as the captain spoke, and the spray dashed high over the Rocket. Mrs. Horton went into the tiny cabin, but Sunny Boy and his father stayed with the captain. They were wrapped in oilskin coats he lent them, and it was very exciting to watch the Rocket cut through the waves.
“Wouldn’t the wind blow her ashore ’thout any engine?” Sunny asked, after studying the clouds for a moment.