There was a pause. Across the water there came a confused murmur of voices, but what they said was not audible.
“Sea King, ahoy!” hailed Jack impatiently, “is my father on board and well?”
“Your father is well, we hope, but he’s not on board,” came back the reply in somewhat hesitating tones.
“Not on board!” stammered Jack, feeling for an instant as if he had been struck a heavy blow, “then where is he?”
“Come alongside. Master Jack,” was the response, “there’s a lot to be told.”
The black hulk of the Sea King was plainly visible now, and Jack, steering carefully, with one hand on the engine-room signaling device, skillfully maneuvered the Vagrant alongside of the bigger craft. As he did so an accommodation ladder was lowered, and several heads appeared along the yacht’s rail.
“Stop her,” chimed the signal.
Then came the order to reverse and then “stop” once more. Jupe, with a line in his hand, leaped for the accommodation ladder. Tom, emerging on deck, took in the situation in a glance and made for the stern. He hurled another line, which was caught from above. In as short a time as it takes to tell it, the Vagrant was snugly moored alongside her larger consort.
Jack, with his head in a whirl, stepped from the bridge. Tom was at his side in an instant.
“Is all well with Uncle Chester?” he demanded impatiently. “Is he on board?”