“Annis!” shouted the astounded skipper. “Annis!”
He ran up the rigging, and stepping on to the quay seized her hand. Then he drew her unresistingly towards him and was in the act of passing his arm round her waist when he remembered his position and drew back awkwardly.
“Come on board,” he said gently.
He straddled from the quay to the rigging, and extending his hand in the midst of a perfect silence, helped her to the deck.
“Where is my father?” she said eagerly.
Wilson made no reply.
“Where is he?” she repeated.
Wilson shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said gloomily, “I don’t know. He was here an hour or two ago. He was here yesterday.”
She caught his arm breathlessly.
“Where is he now? What have you done with him?”