They lifted Johann into their dory and brought the two boys ashore.
“He’ll be all right in a bit when he’s got dry and warm again,” said one of the men, “and as for you, young skipper, you are not in a much better state yourself.”
“I’m not the skipper,” explained Billy quickly. “It was he that sailed her all the way over, and only gave out when we got to the breakwater. I don’t think any one else on earth could have put us across. If you will take care of him a little I will be so thankful. I have to go on.”
“In that state?” the man exclaimed, but Billy could not be persuaded to wait. His water-soaked watch had stopped, but a clock in one of Rockford’s steeples was striking the hour.
“I can only just make the Piscataqua train,” he said. “Telephone back to Appledore, won’t you please, that we are safe. No, don’t stop me, I have to go.”
Johann had opened his eyes and now managed to hold out a wet hand to say farewell.
“You’ll never see Johann Happs again,” he whispered weakly, but even under his breath the tone was joyous. He was to live to forget
