CHAPTER XVIII
EPH ENJOYS BEING RESCUED
In going that last eighth of a mile the gunboat's speed was gradually
slowed.
It was a pretty piece of ship-handling. The "_Massapequa_" lost headway
gradually a hundred feet from where Eph sat solemnly blinking back at
the sailors' faces along the forward starboard rail.
An officer's uniform showed at the edge of the bridge, as he called:
"Ahoy, there!"
"Ahoy, yourself," answered Eph. "And another one for courtesy."
"Don't get funny, boy!" admonished the officer on the bridge. "What's
the matter with you?"
"Nothing," Somers replied. "But; say! Can you spare a cushion."
"How did you come to be there, boy?"
"Floated," admitted Eph, truthfully.
"How did you ever get six miles off the coast on that float you're on?"
"Can't remember," replied Eph, dubiously.
"How long have you been out here on the water?"
"Ever since February, 1976," Eph Somers asserted, solemnly.
"Crazy!" muttered the officer to himself. "We'll have to get him aboard
and turn him over to the officers at the next port. I'll try him on one
more question."
Raising his voice, he called:
"What's your business? Do you follow the sea?"
"Say, you haven't caught me leading it anywhere, have you?" inquired Eph,
wonderingly.
"If we throw you a rope, will you try to catch it?"
"Yep, or a beefsteak, either," Somers declared, promptly.
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