The houseboat had been anchored for two weeks along the southwest shore of Cape Charles, not many miles from where the great Atlantic Ocean enters the Chesapeake Bay. Slowly but steadily the "Merry Maid" drifted down the Maryland coast. Once out on the deep waters the pretty toy boat moved on and on. In the cabin Miss Jenny Ann and the girls slept peacefully, unconscious of danger.
Soon the lights in the yellow-shaded lamps went out. The boat was in utter darkness.
If there had been lights aboard the "Merry Maid," if early in her perilous voyage cries for help had sounded from her deck, the little boat would soon have been rescued. But with no lights and no sounds aboard, the houseboat passed on her way, and purely by chance her course did not cross the line of another craft.
THE AWAKENING
It was about an hour before dawn when Phyllis Alden awoke with an odd sensation. She had dreamed that she had been traveling in an airship and had grown seasick from the motion. She heard a sound of wind and pouring rain, and a far-off muffled roar of thunder. A storm had come up, of this Phyllis was sure. But why did she continue to feel seasick? How the wind and the waves were rocking the poor "Merry Maid"!
The boat lurched a little. Phil clutched at the side of her berth. By this time she was wider awake. "What a terrific storm!" she thought to herself. "I hope we won't be blown away." Phil turned over on her pillow. It was incredible that everybody else should be asleep when the wind made such a noise. Besides, the boat was moving; Phil felt sure of it.
She sat up in her berth. At this moment a heavy wave struck the "Merry Maid" on her port side. Phil rolled out of bed and ran to the tiny cabin window. The rain was coming down so hard and fast that, try as she might, she could not see the familiar line of the shore.
Once Phil's feet were on the floor she realized that their boat was actually moving. Seizing her dressing-gown, without calling to one of the other girls, she rushed out on the rain-swept deck. For a moment the rain filled her eyes and blinded her. Her breath left her. She clung to the railing outside the cabin. Far off, back of them, a single, far-reaching light shone on the water. To the right a dimmer glow burned. But everything else was a blank waste of water. She stood, a white and terror-stricken figure, realizing in the instant their great disaster.
"Miss Jenny Ann! Madge!" she shouted, going back into the cabin. "Wake up, won't you? Put something warm around you and come out on the deck with me. I am afraid the houseboat has broken from her anchorage and drifted some distance from the shore."