Part 19 (1/2)

Betty and Lulu had also noticed how fast the boat was drifting.

”The tide's going out,” whispered Betty, with white lips. ”Where does this river go to, Lulu?”

”Into the ocean, I think,” said Lulu, s.h.i.+vering. ”It has to go round Sandy Hook first, though,” she added more hopefully, ”and somebody will be sure to see us before we get there.”

”Are you very frightened, Jack, dear?” Betty whispered, nestling close to her little brother.

”N--no, not so very,” returned Jack tremulously; ”only--only, if anything does happen think how unhappy mother will be, and--and, I did hope I should be able to walk just like other people.”

This was too much for Betty, and she promptly burst into tears.

”Oh, we must do something, we must,” cried Lulu, almost beside herself with anxiety. ”It's all my fault, I know, but I really did think it was safe. I didn't mean to be naughty, I truly didn't, Winifred.”

”I know you didn't,” sobbed Winifred, hugging her friend in a burst of remorse. ”I didn't mean what I said, not a single word of it, only I was so dreadfully frightened.”

”Perhaps if we keep on shouting all the time, and waving our handkerchiefs, some one will notice us,” Betty suggested.

This seemed a good idea, and was promptly acted upon, but though they shouted till their throats were sore, and waved till their arms ached, no friendly face appeared, and faster and faster drifted the little boat away from home and friends.

”I wonder what time it is,” said Winifred, when they had at last left off shouting, in order to gain a little breath. ”It seems as if we had been out on the river for hours and hours.”

”We can't have been as long as that,” said Betty, ”because the sun is just as bright as it was when we started. I guess the time seems longer than it really is.”

”I wonder where our mothers are now,” remarked Lulu mournfully. ”Mine must be on the boat coming home from the city.”

”And mine is driving with Mrs. Martin,” said Winifred. ”Oh, what will they all do when they get home and we're not there.” The picture called up by this remark was too dreadful to be borne with fort.i.tude, and all four children simultaneously burst into tears.

Suddenly Jack's voice broke in upon the wails of the three little girls.

”Look, oh, look! there's a steamboat; it's coming this way.”

Every eye was turned in the direction Jack pointed. Sure enough, a large steam yacht was coming rapidly down the river, her head pointed straight towards them.

”Wave, keep waving as hard as you can,” cried Betty excitedly. ”Let's all shout together again, and perhaps they'll hear us.”

”Wait till they get a little nearer, they couldn't hear us yet,”

advised Jack. ”Oh, do you really think they'll save us?”

”Of course they will,” said Lulu confidently. ”Oh, look, look, they see us already; there's a man waving back to us. Maybe they think we're only doing it for fun. How shall we let them know we want them to help us?”

”We must shout,” said Betty, and she set the example by raising her voice to its highest pitch.

”Please, please help us! Our boat's drifting, and we haven't got any oars. Oh, please, do come and help us!”

”They understand us!” cried Lulu joyfully. ”See, the man's nodding his head. Why, they're stopping! Oh, don't you believe they're going to help us after all?”

For the next few moments the children waited in breathless suspense, almost too excited to speak. Then Jack announced:

”They're getting into a rowboat. See those two men? That's the one that nodded to us; I guess he's the captain. Let's shout again.”

So again the four little voices were raised in agonized appeal, and this time there came an answering shout from the other boat.