But Ben kept on waving and pointing.

At last I decided that it must be the row boat he was pointing at.

I stopped rowing and looked.
The row boat was a good distance off and its occupants were but specks.
Now one of the specks stood up and waved its arms.

So far as I could see, the boat was drifting; there were no flashes of sunlight on wet blades to show that the oars were in use.

No, it was drifting, and, as I looked, it swung broadside on.