Having had his eyes fixed steadily on the search-light, Bob found that his surroundings assumed a very black and forbidding appearance. The waves splashed and lapped with a peculiar, monotonous chant, and over the air came the river noises, the puffing of tugs and whistles of various boats in the distance.
As the dory answered to the call of the choppy masses, Bob thought of his situation, adrift on the great Hudson. How strange and mysterious it seemed, with both shores lost in the gloom of night.
“Look alive there; it’s coming!”
A long roller was rushing shoreward, followed by a succession of others. Bob saw them looming dimly in the half-obscured moonlight. The foremost seemed to glimmer for an instant, then the dory was carried high over its foaming crest and plunged down on the other side, to meet another which sent it heeling almost to the gunwale, while drenching spray dashed over the skipper.
For an instant, the water battled with fury against the frail craft, but Bob Somers’ arms were sturdy, and he managed to keep the dory headed toward the waves. Soon the violent wobbling ceased, and he pulled alongside the other boat.
“I’m just as wet as you are, now,” he said, with a smile, “even though we’re not in the same boat,” and Bob chuckled at his own witticism. “Ready? I’ve got her tight.”
“Yes, ready now,” answered the stranger.
He stepped lightly from one boat into the other. Then Bob quickly fastened a line to the water-logged craft.
“I certainly am thankful for your timely aid,” said the young man, extending his hand. “Perhaps I oughtn’t to admit it, but I was getting pretty badly scared. I was afraid that my boat might go down at any minute. I’m completely played out—couldn’t make any headway at all. My name is Norman Redfern.”
Bob introduced himself and, in a few words, explained about their trip.