“Well, we’re gittin’ there.  Can’t expect to travel so fast with part of the power off.  You’ll be where you’re goin’ full as soon as you want to be, I cal’late.”

And he chuckled.

Another half hour and, through the wet dimness, a light flashed, vanished, and flashed again.  Issy saw it and smiled grimly.  Bartlett saw it and shouted.

“’What’s that light?” he cried.  “Did you see it?  There it is, off there.”

“I see it.  There’s a light at Trumet Neck, ain’t there?”

“Humph!  It’s been years since I was there, but I thought Trumet light was steady.  However—­”

“Ain’t that the wharf ahead?”

Sure enough, out of the dark loomed the bulk of a small wharf, with catboats at anchor near it.  Higher up, somewhere on the shore, were the lighted windows of a building.

“By thunder, we’re here!” exclaimed Sam, and drew a long breath.

Issy shut off the power altogether, and the Lady May slid easily up to the wharf.  Feverishly her skipper made her fast.

“Yes, sir!” he cried exultantly.  “We’re here.  And no Black Rover nor anybody else ever done a better piece of steerin’ than that, nuther.”

He clambered over the stringpiece, right at the heels of his impatient but grateful passenger.  Sam’s thanks were profuse and sincere.

“I’ll never forget it, Is,” he declared.  “I’ll never forget it.  And you’ll have to let me pay you the—­What makes you shake so?”

Issy pulled his arm away and stepped back.

“I’ll never forget it, Is,” continued Sam.  “I—­Why!  What—?”

He was standing at the shore end of the wharf, gazing up at the lighted windows.  They were those of a dwelling house—­an old-fashioned house with a back yard sloping down to the landing.

And then Issy McKay leaned forward and spoke in his ear.

“You bet you won’t forgit it, Sam Bartlett!” he crowed, in trembling but delicious triumph.  “You bet you won’t!  I’ve fixed you just the same as the Black Rover fixed the mutineers.  Run off with my girl, will ye?  And marry her, will ye?  I—­”

Sam interrupted him.  “Why!  Why!” he cried.  “That’s—­that’s Gertie’s house!  This isn’t Trumet!  It’s east Harniss!”

The next moment he was seized from behind.  The skipper’s arms were around his waist and the skipper’s thin legs twisted about his own.  They fell together upon the sand and, as they rolled and struggled, Issy’s yells rose loud and high.

“Mr. Higgins!” he shrieked.  “Mr. Higgins!  Come on!  I’ve got him!  I’ve got the feller that’s tryin’ to steal your daughter!  Come on!  I’ve got him!  I’m hangin’ to him!”

A door banged open.  Some one rushed down the walk.  And then a girl’s voice cried in alarm: 

“What is it?  Who is it?  What is the matter?”

And from the bundle of legs and arms on the ground two voices exclaimed:  “Gertie!”