"It's far better for you to look on," he said. "Girls aren't much good at rowing."
"How about Grace Darling?"
"Oh, well, she was the exception that proves the rule!"
"Here we are, close to the farm!" exclaimed Godfrey. "We must try to find a good landing-place."
They decided that it was not worth while for all to leave the boat, so Francis volunteered to get out. He ran across a field to the farm, delivered his father's message, and was back almost before the others had time to grow impatient.
"We must turn her about now," said Piers. "Oh, thunder! It's later than I thought; we shall have to hurry up, if somebody wants the boat at half-past four. Francis, you had better take Godfrey's oar."
Once on the river again they found that their return was a very different matter from their former journey. The tide was running out in a fast and strong current against them, and though Piers and Francis tried their utmost, they could scarcely make any headway. It was a heavy boat for two boys to manage, and the possibility of their being back in time seemed doubtful.
They had gone perhaps two-thirds of a mile, when suddenly there was a harsh, grating sound under them.
"Hallo! We've run aground!" cried Francis.
This was bad news indeed, but it was only too true. They had not known that a sandbank was there; on their way up they had passed over it easily, but the tide was going out so rapidly now that already it was almost uncovered. The boat seemed stuck fast, and although the boys made every effort, they were not able to free her with their oars. They pulled off their boots and stockings, and, jumping overboard, tried to push or drag her from the shoal, but all to no purpose; she was sunk so deeply in the soft sand and gravel that they could not move her an inch.