"Send the boy a rope," directed the officer on the bridge. "Be careful not to sweep him off the float. The lad doesn't seem over-bright."
Though this remark was not intended for his ears, Eph caught it nevertheless.
"Not bright, am I?" muttered Eph, to himself. "Gracious, what a lot of company I have in the world, then!"
Through the air the rope, deftly thrown, came swirling. Eph caught his end of the line in a manner to make the officer say to himself:
"That boy has followed the sea. He knows as much about life on salt water as I do."
Very deliberately Eph bent over, fastening his end of the line around the knob on the stateroom door.
"Haul in, my hearties," he hailed.
Eph stood up, balancing himself nicely while the sailors hauled the slack until the door lay bumping against the side hull of the gunboat.
"Look out," sang out Eph. "Little Willie, the Boy Dewey, is coming on board."
With that he began to climb the rope, hand over hand, until he reached the rail and clambered over, standing dripping on the deck.