_The Dart_, apparently unscathed, although later Gerald found a long smear of black paint along the side where the steamer had grazed, was rocking quietly enough in the little oily waves as the sailors paddled the rowboat alongside. Gerald had thrown the clutch out before he jumped overboard, but the engine was still running. One by one the boys climbed across to the wet, fog-drenched cockpit. “Good luck,” called their rescuer. “Keep your whistle going. Give way, men.” The small boat disappeared into the fog, the crew of _The Dart_ waving good-by. Then, “Harry, you and Kendall go down there and get your wet clothes off,” said Gerald. “You’ll find towels in the bottom of the right-hand locker. Rub yourself dry and put some blankets around you. I’ll stay here and keep the horn going until you get fixed up.” “What’s the matter with you doing it?” asked Harry. “You’re as wet as I am.” “You do as I say,” replied Gerald shortly. “I’m boss on this ship. Hurry up now!” Kendall’s teeth chattered so as he pulled and tugged at his wet garments that Harry became alarmed and went to his assistance. But when they had rubbed their bodies into a glow with the coarse bath towels they felt rather better for their bath than worse. They took Gerald’s place on deck and he disappeared to follow the same course of treatment. The discarded clothing was wrung out and hung about to dry if it would, and the three mariners, attired in gray blankets, presented a ludicrous appearance. “I hope no one will see us,” laughed Harry as Gerald joined them in the cockpit. “We might be taken for the Flying Dutchman.” “You look more like an Indian,” said Kendall. “What shall we do when we get ashore? We can’t go up to school in these blankets!” “We’ll get ashore first,” replied Gerald, “and decide that afterwards. Have you heard the _Conomoit’s_ whistle lately?” “Yes, a min――there it is now.” Gerald stared into the fog, striving to locate exactly the direction of the steamer. “Which way did that come from?” he asked puzzledly. “Over there,” said Harry, pointing to port. “Over there,” said Kendall, pointing over the bow. Then the three looked at each other in dawning dismay. “I thought it was more back there,” said Gerald doubtfully. “Let’s wait until we hear it again.” But when it came again it was further away and might have proceeded from almost any point at their right. “That’s funny,” said Harry. “The last time it seemed more over there.”