He left the cabin, followed by Guy, and making his way up the companion, stepped out on to the smooth and spotless deck.
The Betty had slowed down almost completely and only a faint ripple in her wake showed that she was still moving. Hove to, a little distance ahead, lay a small cutter of about seven tons, from which a dinghy with a couple of men on board was just putting out.
They rowed rapidly across the intervening water so as to cut off the yacht, and timing it to perfection reached their destination just as she was practically ceasing to move. An accommodation ladder had been let down over the side, and Jimmy, a stout and happy looking young gentleman who was crouching in the bows, grabbed hold of it neatly as it came alongside. The next moment he had scrambled on board, and the boat with its solitary occupant was drifting away astern.
"Once aboard the lugger—" observed the newcomer in an extraordinarily soft voice, and then with a faint chuckle he stepped forward and clasped Tony's outstretched hand. "Hope I haven't come too early?" he added cheerfully.
Tony wrung his hand, and taking a pace backwards surveyed him with an affectionate approval.
"My dear Jimmy," he said. "You come like the flowers in May."
"And I may mention," added Jimmy, transferring his grip to Guy, "that I come after a prolonged and distressing drought."
Tony smiled happily. "I have ordered breakfast for you," he said. "We will go straight down, as soon as I have introduced you to the skipper."
Captain Simmons, who had left the bridge, was advancing along the deck towards them.
"This is my friend Jimmy Dale, Captain," said Tony. "He is one of Portriga's most distinguished citizens."