“Ahoy there!” came floating back faintly.
“Give us a lift. We’re stalled.”
“Right O! We’re coming!” The voice seemed very far away.
Presently across the shimmering waters of night a dark bulk loomed.
It was only a fishing boat headed for the dock. This craft smelled of herring and tar, but she carried, too, a hearty welcome such as one might not find on a handsomer boat.
“Give us yer line!
“Now! There we are! Where y’ bound fer in that thing?” the sun-tanned skipper boomed.
“Nowhere in particular. We want to get back to the lagoon.”
“Right O! We’ll tow y’ in.”
Next moment the stranded ones found themselves leaning back comfortably in the broad seat, watching the play of moonlight upon the water that rippled and rolled about their prow.