At first my
grandfather said he heard nothing; but at length he distinguished, as I
did, the regular plash--plash--plash--of oars in the distance.
'Yes, it _is_ a boat,' said my grandfather.
I was hastening to leave the pier, and run up to the house to tell Mrs.
Millar, but my grandfather laid his hand on my shoulder.
'Wait a bit, Alick, my lad,' he said; 'let us hear what it is first;
maybe it isn't Jem, after all!'
'But it's coming here, grandfather; I can hear it better now.'
'Yes,' he said, 'it's coming here;' but he still kept his hand on my
shoulder.
The boat had been a long way off when we first heard it, for it was many
minutes before the sound of the oars seemed to become much more
distinct. But it came nearer, and nearer, and nearer. Yes, the boat was
evidently making for the island.
At last it came so near that my grandfather called out from the end of
the pier,--
'Hollo, Jem! You're late, my lad!'
'Hollo!' said a voice from the boat; but it wasn't Jem's voice.
'Whereabouts is your landing-place?' said the voice; 'it's so thick, I
can't see.'
'Why, Jem isn't there, grandfather!' I said, catching hold of his arm.
'No,' said my grandfather; 'I knew there was something wrong with the
lad.'
He called out to the man in the boat the direction in which he was to
row, and then he and I went down the steps together, and waited for the
boat to come up.
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