“I wonder when that will be,” murmured Teddy.
“Before long I hope. If he doesn’t come over to see us, we’ll go up to Oakland to see him.”
“How far is Oakland from here?” asked Bill.
“Not more than thirty miles. With a good wind we can make it in a few hours. But I think I see father standing on the platform of the tower. Take a look, Bill, and tell me if it is. My eyes are pretty good, but yours are better.”
“That’s who it is,” pronounced Bill, after a minute’s scrutiny. “He has a pair of glasses in his hands. There, he’s waving to us.”
“Dear old dad!” exclaimed Lester. “I suppose he’s worried himself half sick, wondering what had become of us. But he knows now that we are safe, and with this wind we’ll not be more than twenty minutes or half an hour in getting in.”
They flew along over the waves, cunningly coaxing every inch of speed out of the Ariel, and in less time than Lester had predicted they rounded to at the little dock on the leeward side of the lighthouse rock. A bronzed, elderly man, of medium height, came hurriedly down to meet them.
“Thank God, you are safe!” he exclaimed, as he grasped Lester’s hand, then that of each of the boys 68 in turn. “I haven’t been able to think of anything but you all night long. What happened to you?”
“It’s a long story, Dad,” said Lester, beaming affectionately on his father, as, after fastening the Ariel, they all walked up to the lighthouse. “We picked up a fellow that had been carried overboard from his motor boat, and by that time the storm had grown so bad that we had to run for it to the nearest place that offered us shelter.”
“And where was that?”