There came a driving squall of wind and rain, presently, and the boys went inside.
“The Viking won’t be in to-night, I guess, after all,” said Harvey.
Then, as it grew dark, they busied themselves till they were taken all by surprise by a knock at the door. There stood Ed Sanders, his clothes dripping.
“We’re in,” he said. “The squire sent me up to tell you. He’s gone home. The Viking’s fast at her mooring, and all right. Come out and you can see her lantern that I set at the foremast. She don’t need a light, safe in the harbour here, but I thought you might like to see it and know she is there.”
“We’ll go down right away,” said Henry Burns. “Much obliged to you.”
“No, you won’t,” cried George Warren. “You don’t stir out of this house to-night. You’re going to stay with us. The boat is all right.”
They stepped to the door and looked out upon the bay. It was clearing, but it was not pleasant. Everything was soaked with the rain, and the wind was blowing.
“What do you say, Jack?”
“Oh, I think we might as well stay,” answered Harvey.
So they stayed. And they slept soundly, too, with the night-breeze whistling past their window. But it is certain they would not have slept soundly, nor slept at all, if they had but known of a certain letter that young Harry Brackett had written and sent to Bellport, three days before, and of the significance it had to the man who received it.