“Do you get the first steamer in, on the other boat?”
“Yes, I have the first turn.” I understood now why our crew, at the outset, objected to any pilots being taken on our boat. It delayed the return of those on board to New York. “Steward!” called Germond, finally, “tell one of the men back there to run up a signal for the other boat.”
“Ay! Ay! sir!” called back the steward.
At half after six the other pilot-boat drew near and Germond packed his sea clothes and came up on deck.
“Well, here she is, boys,” he said. “Now I leave you.”
They put out the yawl and he jumped in. When he had gone we watched him climbing aboard the other schooner.
“Now for New York!” exclaimed McLaughlin, the boatswain, and master of the crew in the absence of any pilot.
“Do we sail all night?”
“To get there by morning we’ll have to.”
All sails were then hoisted, and we bore away slowly. Darkness fell. The stars came out. Far away the revolving light of the Highlands of Navesink was our guide. Far behind, the little pilot-boat which had received Germond was burning a beacon for some steamer which had signaled a blue light. Gradually this grew more and more dim, and the gloom enveloped all.