A bare eighth of a mile away, directly in the track of the gunboat, sat Eph on his door.  Those in the tower could not quite make him out in the night, but they could see the circles described by the lighted lantern that Eph was swinging.

CHAPTER XVIII

EPH ENJOYS BEING RESCUED

In going that last eighth of a mile the gunboat’s speed was gradually slowed.

It was a pretty piece of ship-handling.  The “Massapequa” lost headway gradually a hundred feet from where Eph sat solemnly blinking back at the sailors’ faces along the forward starboard rail.

An officer’s uniform showed at the edge of the bridge, as he called: 

“Ahoy, there!”

“Ahoy, yourself,” answered Eph.  “And another one for courtesy.”

“Don’t get funny, boy!” admonished the officer on the bridge.  “What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing,” Somers replied.  “But; say!  Can you spare a cushion.”

“How did you come to be there, boy?”

“Floated,” admitted Eph, truthfully.

“How did you ever get six miles off the coast on that float you’re on?”

“Can’t remember,” replied Eph, dubiously.

“How long have you been out here on the water?”

“Ever since February, 1976,” Eph Somers asserted, solemnly.

“Crazy!” muttered the officer to himself.  “We’ll have to get him aboard and turn him over to the officers at the next port.  I’ll try him on one more question.”

Raising his voice, he called: 

“What’s your business?  Do you follow the sea?”

“Say, you haven’t caught me leading it anywhere, have you?” inquired Eph, wonderingly.

“If we throw you a rope, will you try to catch it?”

“Yep, or a beefsteak, either,” Somers declared, promptly.

“Send the boy a rope,” directed the officer on the bridge.  “Be careful not to sweep him off the float.  The lad doesn’t seem over-bright.”

Though this remark was not intended for his ears, Eph caught it nevertheless.

“Not bright, am I?” muttered Eph, to himself.  “Gracious, what a lot of company I have in the world, then!”

Through the air the rope, deftly thrown, came swirling.  Eph caught his end of the line in a manner to make the officer say to himself: 

“That boy has followed the sea.  He knows as much about life on salt water as I do.”

Very deliberately Eph bent over, fastening his end of the line around the knob on the stateroom door.

“Haul in, my hearties,” he hailed.

Eph stood up, balancing himself nicely while the sailors hauled the slack until the door lay bumping against the side hull of the gunboat.

“Look out,” sang out Eph.  “Little Willie, the Boy Dewey, is coming on board.”

With that he began to climb the rope, hand over hand, until he reached the rail and clambered over, standing dripping on the deck.