But there was even a greater probability that the
unwieldy catamaran might be caught by the swell and dashed side-long
against one of the half-submerged rocks that thrust their black fangs
above the water.
Happily, they were spared either alternative. At the very instant that
their lot must be put to the test of chance, Coke's hoarse accents came
to their incredulous ears.
"Let her go, Olsen," he was growling. "We've a clear course now, an'
that dam moon will spile everything if we're spotted."
In this instance hearing was believing, and Philip was the first to
guess what had actually occurred.
"Boat ahoy, skipper!" he sang out in a joyous hail.
Coke stood up. He glared hard at the reef.
"Did ye 'ear it?" he cried to De Sylva, who was steering. "Sink me, I
'ope I ain't a copyin' pore ole Watts, but if that wasn't Hozier's
voice I'm goin' dotty."
"It's all right, skipper," said Philip, sending the catamaran ahead
with a mighty sweep. "Miss Yorke is here--Captain San Benavides, too.
I was sure you would look for us if you cleared the harbor safely."
Then Coke proclaimed his sentiments in the approved ritual of the high
seas, while the big Norseman at the oars swung the boat's head round
until both craft were traveling in company to the waiting launch.
Pages:
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209