Both he and Captain Starkweather hoped that some American vessel might come to their rescue. But now that the wind had died away there was no chance of that for the present.
“A midsummer calm. May be stuck here for twenty-four hours,” Anne heard a grumbling voice declare.
The long summer day dragged by. Anne opened the lunch basket, but had little appetite. At sunset there was a ripple of wind and the two boats, side by side, moved a short distance.
Anne, shut up in the tiny cabin, had come to a great resolve. “Father told me to stay here, but if I could creep aboard the schooner and untie the cords, then father and Captain Starkweather could get free,” she thought. And the more she thought of it, the more sure she was that she could do it.
The twilight deepened, and now Anne ventured to push open the cabin door a little way. The sailors were in the forecastle, but Anne could see a dark figure in the stern of the schooner. She ventured out and softly closed the cabin door. Now, on her hands and knees, the little girl crept across the little space toward the side of the schooner. It looked like a black wall, but not very high above her, and there were ropes; and Anne was used to boats. Grasping a rope she drew herself up, hand over hand, until she could reach the deck-rail. Now she gave a swift glance toward the dark figure at the stern. “I do believe he’s asleep,” she thought, and Anne now pulled herself to the top of the rail and dropped noiselessly to the deck of the schooner. For a few moments she cowered in the shadow, and then looked anxiously about. Near the cabin she could see two black shadows, and knew that they were her father and Captain Starkweather.
Keeping close in the shadow Anne crept along the deck. But, noiseless as her progress had been, Anne had been seen the moment her little figure reached the top of the deck rail. John Nelson’s keen eyes, staring into the summer night, had recognized his little daughter, and instantly realized that Anne meant to help them. He held his breath for fear that some sharp ear had caught a sound, and then whispered to his companion, “Don’t move, or call out, captain; Anne is on deck and will help us.”
The little girl was now close beside her father. “Feet first, Anne,” he whispered, and Anne’s eager fingers pulled and worked at the tough knots so securely tied until they loosened, and John Nelson could move his feet. Her father did not dare even whisper again. He longed to tell her to hurry, but dared not speak. Anne was now tugging and twisting at the rope which held her father’s wrists, and managed to loosen it so that he could work his hands free. Then they both began to loosen Captain Starkweather’s cords, and in a few minutes he too was free. The same thought was running through the minds of both men: If a girl like Anne had such courage, why couldn’t two sailors make a prize of this good English boat?
“Go back to the sloop’s cabin, Anne. We’ll follow,” whispered her father. And Anne obeyed. She was not afraid now. How easy it had been, she thought happily, as she slid down the rope to the sloop’s deck, and found herself again in the little cabin.
The dark figure, dozing at the schooner’s helm, did not see the two creeping men who so suddenly were upon him. A twisted scarf over his mouth, and no sound to warn his mates, his hands and feet bound with the very cords that had secured his prisoners, he was left a captive. Then John Nelson and Captain Starkweather sped toward the forecastle; the open hatchway was closed so quickly that the men below hardly realized what had happened, and it was securely fastened before they could help themselves.
“The breeze is coming,” declared Captain Starkweather. “Shall we put back to Boston, John? We’ll not know what to do with this craft in Province Town.”