“Good Lord, what will the Royals say!” the captain groaned.  “Here we are adrift and can’t lift a hand to help ourselves.  I wonder what struck us, anyway.”

“It was something big,” the doctor replied.  “I heard the water striking against it as we drifted off.  It is over in that direction,” and he pointed to the right.  “Listen, you can hear it now.  It’s adrift, and following us.”

“I wonder what it kin be,” the captain mused.  “I can’t imagine what would rip away the mast before strikin’ the yacht.  It is certainly very queer.”

“Is there any chance of our drifting ashore, do you think?” the doctor asked.  “It will be hard on that boy if we are forced to stay here all night.”

“There’s a strong current runnin’,” the captain returned, “and it’s likely to hold us in its clutch fer some time.  The tide won’t change fer over an hour, and it’s hard to tell where we’ll be by that time.  Hello, what light’s that up yonder?”

As the doctor looked he saw a bright glare in the distance, which was becoming brighter every minute.

“It’s coming toward us, anyway,” was his comment.  “What can it be!”

The captain made no reply for awhile, but stood very still, with his eyes fixed upon the approaching light.

“I’ve got it!” he exclaimed.  “It’s that big tug which went up this afternoon.  She’s lost one of her scows in this gale, and is now lookin’ fer it with her search-light out.  It was the scow we struck.  I understand it all now.  We ran right in front of it, and its big flare of a bow caught our mast.  Confound Bill Tobin!  Why didn’t he take care of his scow?”

Tide, wind, and steam soon brought the tug near.  Her search-light swept the water in every direction, at times dazzling the eyes of the two men in the yacht.  At last it remained fixed full upon them, showing that they were observed.  In a few minutes the tug was alongside.

“Hello, what’s wrong?” came a deep gruff voice from the wheel-house.

“What’s wrong with you, Bill Tobin?” Captain Josh asked in reply.  “Ye’ve got us in a nice fix to-night.  Why didn’t ye take care of yer old scow?  She’s smashed us, that’s what’s wrong.”

“Oh, is that you, Josh Britt?” and Captain Tobin’s voice suddenly changed.  “Climb on board, and we’ll try to straighten matters out.”

Without more words, Captain Josh lifted Rod tenderly in his arms and scrambled up into the tug.

“For heaven’s sake! what have ye got there?” Captain Tobin exclaimed.

“Parson Dan’s son, that’s who it is.  Got a bed ready?”

“Bring him here,” and Captain Tobin turned to his right.  “Put him in my bed; he’ll be all right there.”

By this time the tug-boatmen had made fast to the Roaring Bess with a long rope, and kept her in tow as the tug was swung around and headed for the drifting scow.

“We’ll just run that confounded scow into the lee of the island,” Captain Tobin told the ship-wrecked men, “and then we’ll put you ashore as fast as this old tub can travel.  Will that do?”