Bill had recovered somewhat by now. “No, ma’am,” he declared positively. “Joe and me live in little old New York. But we’ve been here ten years!”
“Ten years!” Dorothy’s cheeks paled. “Ten years! Oh! can’t you get away? Don’t tell me you can’t get away!”
“No, ma’am, we can’t get away. We’d go like a shot if we could. You see, ma’am, nothing but wrecks ever come in here, and there ain’t no way of getting out.”
“Can’t you build a boat?”
“We might, ma’am, but how could we get it through the weed. Nobody ever has. Everybody who’s ever come in here is here yet.”
“Everybody! How many are there of you?”
“Twenty-two—not countin’ the women and the child.”
“Women! Are there women here? I’m so glad! Oh! poor creatures! Have they—But, there! Come up here and sit down. We drifted in here only yesterday—three of us. The men have gone to explore, but they will be back soon. While we are waiting for them, you must tell me all about everything.”
Dorothy led the way aft, reaching the taffrail just in time to see Howard and Jackson speeding toward her over the wrecks. She waved her hand at them; assured of their safety she felt more secure.
“There comes the rest of our party,” she explained.