Later that night, Purple Gloves and Goulet shoved Matt into a small wooden boat. A portable lantern sat in the bow of the little craft. Purple Gloves rowed, and the oar locks squealed and rattled badly in their mounts. The choppy ocean slapped the vessel, and the currents tried to pull it off course. The oarsman was a wiley sailor and easily corrected their position.
The bottom boards where Matt was sitting prevented him from getting wet. Below the boards, water slowly seeped into the lit