She was astonished to find it had been over
half an hour.
"Heaven knows where the boat could have got to in half an hour," Ken
muttered, "with this tide. And the wind's going to sea, too."
Felicia shook him wildly by the arm. "Do you realize--Kirk's in that
boat!" she moaned. "Kirk's _in_ that boat--do you realize it?"
Ken tore himself free.
"No, I don't want to realize it," he said in a harsh, high voice. "Get
back to the house, Phil! You can't do anything. I'm going to the harbor
master now--I'm going everywhere. I may not be back to-night." He gave
her a little push, "Go, Phil."
But he ran after her. "Poor old Phil--mustn't worry," he said gently.
"Get back to the farm before it's dark and have it all cheerful for us
when we come in--Kirk and I."
And then he plunged into the reek, and Felicia heard the quick beat of
his steps die away down the wharf.
The harbor master was prompt in action, but not encouraging. He got off
with Ken in his power boat in surprisingly short order. The coast guard,
who had received a very urgent telephone message, launched the
surf-boat, and tried vainly to pierce the blank wall of fog--now
darkening to twilight--with their big searchlight. Lanterns, lost at
once in the murk, began to issue from wharf-houses as men started on
foot up the shore of the bay.
Ken, in the little hopeless motor-boat, sat straining his eyes beyond
the dripping bow, till he saw nothing but flashes of light that did not
exist.
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