“Come on in, the water’s swell!” John shouted.
“Don’t like the water,” laughed the man; “too wet! Ain’t that right, Slim?”
Another seaman, answering to the name of “Slim” solemnly informed John that the first speaker was used to “dry water.”
“Tell me another, Mister,” John yelled, striving to keep attention focused on himself.
For fifteen minutes the youth floated and swam about round the bows of the anchored yacht, resting at times by holding to the thick anchor chain.
Round by the stern Stan floated quietly, hidden by the curving contour of the yacht from view on deck. As he had guessed, some of the people on board were in the cockpit enjoying the first part of the evening.
“When’s the boss aimin’ to open up on Nevens?” asked a harsh voice.
“Next Thursday at midnight!” some one said.
There was a mingling of voices for a minute or two while the G-man’s son chuckled with delight at his good fortune and the luck which had brought the Sea Hawk into Zenith Harbor. Then some one asked:
“Have a seat over here, Mr. Hegarty?”