She rammed her
shoulder into the waves and flung them contemptuously to one side;
her cabin was tight, dry as the saloon of a liner.
Three men emerged on deck to assist in the difficult process of
making a landing. One of them sprang to the dock, and confronting
me, inquired if I was Mrs. Abbott. He explained that they had set
out to meet me the previous afternoon, but had had to take refuge
behind one of the keys.
"How is Mrs. van Tuiver?" I asked, quickly.
"She is well."
"I don't suppose--the baby----" I hinted.
"No, ma'am, not yet," said the man; and after that I felt interested
in what he had to say about the storm and its effects. We could
return at once, it seemed, if I did not mind being pitched about.
"How long does it take?" I asked.
"Three hours, in weather like this. It's about fifty miles."
"But then it will be dark," I objected.
"That won't matter, ma'am--we have plenty of light of our own. We
shan't have trouble, unless the wind rises, and there's a chain of
keys all the way, where we can get shelter if it does. The worst you
have to fear is spending a night on board."
I reflected that I could not well be more uncomfortable than I had
been the previous night, so I voted for a start.
Pages:
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173