A low rumble of thunder in the distance aroused him.  He looked off toward the right.  The sun had gone down, and big black clouds were massing in the distance and rolling up from the west.  The thunder was becoming more audible, while flashes of lightning were already splitting the air.  He was well accustomed to such storms, which at times came up suddenly after a day of intense heat.  They were generally accompanied by a heavy wind, and he remembered, how twice that very summer the “Eb and Flo” had dragged her anchor when hit by a furious gale.  The first time she had, drifted out into the main channel, and they only had time to hoist sail and get her under way.  On the second occasion she had gone ashore, and barely escaped a pile of rocks.  Fortunately it had been low tide, so when the water rose, a passing tug had pulled her off, undamaged.  The anchor was too small, and his father had often spoken about getting a larger one.  But this he had neglected to do, principally because of the expense.  Had there been good anchorage at Beach Cove, Eben would have felt more at ease.  But he knew that the bottom here was gravelly and would afford but a poor hold for the best of anchors.  A louder rumble of thunder fell upon his ears.

“It’ll soon be here,” he muttered.  “Guess I’d better lower the sail.  It won’t do to have it up when the squall strikes.”

He rose to his feet and was making his way across the pile of stones, when a motor-boat sputtered near, and slowed down close alongside.  There were two men on board, one steering, and the other at the engine.

“Is this the ’Eb and Flo’?” the former asked.

“Guess so,” was the reply.  “What d’ye want?”

At once the motor-boat was made fast to the deck-rail, and the two men climbed on board.  Such liberty was not at all pleasing to Eben.  His fists doubled and his eyes expressed anger.  He recognised one of the visitors as Donaster, the man from whom Jess Randall had fled.  He did not like the look upon his face nor his insolent manner.  What right had these men to come on board the “Eb and Flo”? he asked himself.  He felt in a fighting mood, but he realised that he could do little, for Donaster’s companion was a big burly fellow, of the fighting type.  All this passed quickly through his mind as he stepped back and waited to see what the men would do.  He did not have many seconds to wait, for Donaster, after peering keenly around as if expecting to see someone else, turned impatiently toward Eben.

“Have you a young woman on this boat?” he asked.

“S’pose I have, what bizness is it of yours?” Eben retorted, now more angry than ever.

“You’ll know d——­ quick whether it’s my business or not if you don’t answer my questions.”

“I don’t have to.  This boat’s me own, an’ I kin have anyone I like on board.  You clear out of this.”

“Don’t get insolent, you young cuss.  Keep a civil tongue in your mouth or it won’t be well for you.  I want to know if you have a young woman on board?”