Our hero realized that he had reached shore just in time. The
tempest had held back for him, as it were, as, had it come
upon him while in the sea, no power on earth could have saved
him.
Ensconced in his deserted. cabin with a glowing fire, his
pipe, and a wee drop of whisky, the roar of the tempest was
music in his ears, and lulled him to a peaceful slumber from
which he was rudely aroused, later on, by a punch in the ribs.
The detective awoke, leaped to his feet, and confronted a
powerful-looking man in an oil-skin suit.
"Hello! who are you, and what are you doing here?" came the
inquiry from the stranger.
"These are just the questions I'm putting to you," answered
our hero.
"Well, stranger, my questions are first, I reckon."
"You're right; but tell me, am I in your quarters?"
"No, not exactly; this shanty was built for common use; but
where did you come from?"
"I came from the sea."
"You're a man, you're not a fish; how did you come in from the
sea?"
"I swam in."
"Has there been a wreck?"
"Not to my knowledge."
"Well, you're talking riddles; suppose you get down to plain
United States lingo."
"I fell overboard and was compelled to swim or sink."
"What sort of a craft did you come over from?"
"A yacht."
"A pleasure yacht?"
"Well, yes."
"And you weren't picked up?"
"If I had been I wouldn't be here."
"That's so. How far were you off shore?"
"Not very far."
"You must have gone over before the storm set in.
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