Anne was nearly right, for after Amos had found a fine boiling spring and had drunk all he wanted and then filled his jug, he had sat down to rest under a wide-spreading oak tree. The day was hot, he was very tired and sleepy, having been awake all the night before, and without forgetting the “Peggy” or her crew, he dropped gently off to sleep. The tide came in, lifted the “Peggy” from the sand-bar and a gentle breeze carried her steadily out from shore, and Amos slept on, knowing nothing of what had happened. The sun was very low in the western sky when he awoke. He sat up, rubbed his eyes, snatched up the jug and ran to the shore, but there was no boat to be seen.
Amos was now thoroughly frightened. He ran up and down the quiet shore, calling the name of his boat and shouting, “Amanda!” “Anne!” at the top of his voice. The shadows of the summer night deepened, a little haze rose over the water, and Amos, crouching down near the water’s edge, waited for night to come.
“I know I shall never sleep any more,” he whispered to himself, hardly daring to think of what might happen to the little girls. He wished that he had lowered the mainsail before coming ashore.
“I ought to have dropped anchor, anyway,” he said aloud, and almost forgot to be hungry in his anxiety.
The shadows grew deeper, night settled down on land and sea and Amos went fast asleep again, with his bare feet almost within reach of the waves that rolled so softly up over the smooth sand.
Anne and Amanda watched the tide come in about the “Peggy,” and soon felt the boat move under them. Then the mainsail filled and swung out, as the breeze came up.
“Try and steer ashore, Amanda,” exclaimed Anne.
“I dare not touch the rudder,” said Amanda. “Whenever I have been in a boat, my father has told me to sit still; and I do think it is the best thing we can do now, Anne.”
“Mayhap the wind will take us home again,” said Anne, “and then your father will come back and find Amos.”
“More like ’twill take us straight out to sea,” said Amanda.