Well, I guess not—at least, there was reason to believe I had vindicated my right to be called a man.
The third boat still pursued us, but in a half-hearted way, for they had discovered what an earthquake had overwhelmed the others, and experienced a change of opinion regarding the desirability of getting to close quarters.
Besides, Robbins was pulling steadily, and at every stroke our craft was pushed a length ahead.
I looked around.
There upon the water I saw a rapidly approaching object—a boat with a lantern in it, a boat that coughed intermittently as it bore down upon us.
I knew that sound well; had I not explored creeks and lagoons in Florida, up the Amazon, and even along the Nile in that same little launch?
The chaps back of us were still keeping up more or less of a racket, but distance was already mellowing the sound, and I knew I could make myself heard.
So I bellowed out, using my hands in lieu of a fog-horn:
“Ahoy! Wagner—Cummings—this way!”
Just as I expected, there was an immediate and cheery response, and the launch bore down upon us.