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Updated: May 19, 2025
A closer view revealed the captain waving frantically. "Something's up, all right," remarked Tubby, above the roar of the motor-boat's engine. The others said nothing, but kept their gaze riveted on the captain's figure. With the skill of a veteran boatman, Rob brought the Flying Fish round in a graceful curve and ran her cleanly up to the wharf without the slightest jolt or jar.
But for the unknown deliverer who had snatched her bodily from the doomed boat she herself would be struggling in that almost fathomless depth of water or, stunned by the savage drive of the motor-boat's prow, sinking helplessly down to the bottom like a stone. "Don't be afraid. You're all right." Again that strangely familiar note in the reassuring voice.
No, I'll stay on shore till we have a new boat of our own." So they had stayed on shore, but in spite of herself, Ann's thoughts often travelled back to the occasion of that last journey she had made on the lake with the purr of the motor-boat's engine in her ears and the odd, unnerving consciousness of the Englishman's close proximity.
A few days subsequent to Andrew Daney's secret scuttling of the motor-boat Brutus, Nan Brent was amazed to receive a visit from him. "Good-morning, Nan," he saluted her. "I have bad news for you." "What, pray?" she managed to articulate. She wondered if Donald had been injured up in the woods. "Your motor-boat's gone." This was, indeed, bad news. Trouble showed in Nan's face.
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