“A fine wind, a fine wind!” Captain Enos said with a satisfied nod, as his boat went flying along; “I’ll make Boston Harbor before nightfall at this rate, in time to get my fish ashore by dusk, if I can slide into a landing without the British stopping me. My cargo will be welcome,” and Captain Enos smiled to himself as he thought of the praise he would get from his friends and acquaintance for his brave venture in such troublous times.
Toward noon Anne carefully let herself down from the bunk, and peered out through the door, which Captain Enos had left open. She could see the low sandy shores of Cape Cod, and here and there a white-sailed boat. “I guess we must be ’most to Boston,” she thought; “the sun is way up in the middle of the sky, and I am so hungry.” She came a little nearer to the cabin door and put her head out. “Uncle Enos!” she said softly.
But the captain was singing to keep himself company, and did not hear the faint voice. His head was turned a little away from Anne, but just as she was about to call again his song came to an end and he turned his glance ahead.
“Bless my soul!” he exclaimed.
“It is I, Uncle Enos!” said Anne, stepping out of the cabin.
The captain was almost too surprised to speak. Anne clambered along the side of the sloop until she was close beside him, and reaching out took fast hold of his rough coat sleeve, and repeated:
“It is I, Uncle Enos.”
“Where on earth did you come from?” he exclaimed.
Anne pointed toward the cabin.
“How did you get there?” questioned Captain Enos. “Weren’t you abed and asleep when I left the house this morning?”