In a moment he was crawling back, one finger up-raised. “There’s only one there,” he said softly, “and he’s fast asleep in Dan’s berth. It’s too dark to make out anything about him, and he’s got his face toward the wall, but he looks like a pretty husky chap. Now what shall we do?” “Get the anchor up, take the tender back of the _Sylph_ and make her fast there and go home.” “Can we tow the _Sylph_ and the tender too?” questioned Bob. “Sure. We’ll keep as quiet as we can about it, but I don’t think it matters whether the chap down there wakes up or not. He won’t be a match for the three of us, I guess. I’ll stay below and if he tries to break through the door I’ll lay him out with a wrench. You and Tom get the anchor up and the other boats fixed. Don’t give the _Sylph_ much rope; about four feet will do; we don’t want to get it wound around the propeller. For the love of Mike, Barry, get out from under my feet! Yes, I’m awfully glad to see you, of course, but I’ll tell you about it later.” And Nelson crept back to the engine room. Presently Bob put his head down and whispered that all was ready. Nelson, listening for sounds from beyond the door and hearing none, prepared to start the engine. Bob took the wheel and Tom was stationed at the stern to keep the _Sylph_ from bumping as they turned. Bob waited. So did Tom. Then Nelson’s head appeared at the door. “No wonder he stayed here,” he said angrily. “The blamed idiot went and balled the vaporizer all up! Had it screwed around so she wasn’t getting any gasoline! I’d like to break his head!” “Can’t you fix it?” asked Bob anxiously. “I have fixed it,” was the reply, “but I’m going to tell him what I think of him before he gets away. It’s bad enough to swipe the boat, I should think, without trying to queer the engine!” And Nelson went back still muttering vengefully. Bob and Tom exchanged grins. Then the _Vagabond_, which had been slipping downstream for several minutes, turned her nose toward the middle of the Thames and swung about to the tune of her chugging engine, the _Sylph_ and the tender following behind in single file. Presently Nelson wiped his hands on a bunch of waste and seated himself on the middle step where he could at once keep his eye on the engine, watch the stateroom door, and converse with Bob and Tom. “Don’t see why he don’t wake up now,” said Bob, when they were making for New London. “Maybe he’s dead.” “Ku-ku-killed by ru-ru-remorse,” suggested Tom. “Steal around and have a peep at him, Tommy,” said Nelson. Tommy looked doubtful. “Du-du-do you think he’s got a gu-gu-gu-gun?” he asked. “No, and, anyway, he’s asleep, isn’t he?” answered Nelson. “That’s what I du-du-don’t know,” replied Tom. “Well, go and see,” laughed Bob. “You don’t have to climb through the port; just take a peek.” So Tom obeyed, not overanxiously, and displayed splendid caution in the matter of approach. For fully half a minute he leaned over the port. Then he came back, looking excited.