"Please don't be funny," she retorted, now mistress of herself once more. "I want to thank you--"
"You are very welcome. Seriously, though, it is the boathook you have to thank. Without that we'd both have gone to Davy Jones' locker long before this."
Dorothy was nearly thrown off her feet by an unusually high sea which crashed over the pilot house and rolled the vessel far over on her side.
"Whew--that was a near one!" the girl exploded as the ship righted itself.
"We'll weather it, don't worry," encouraged Bill, though he did not feel the confidence his words proclaimed.
"It looks to me," said Dorothy soberly, "as though we'll be mighty lucky if we reach shore at all--and I guess you know it."
"Never say die, Miss Dixon!"
"Suppose we drop this miss and mister stuff, Bill. Sounds rather silly at a time like this, don't you think so?"
"Right you are, Dorothy. I'm not much on ceremony, myself, as the Irishman said when--"
"Look here, Bill!" Dorothy tossed her head impatiently, "I wish you'd omit the comedy--it really isn't necessary. I'll admit I was in a bad way when you dragged me out of the briny deep--and I appreciate your coming to my rescue. But you needn't expect me to faint or to throw hysterics. That sort of thing went out of fashion long ago. Girls today have just as much nerve as boys. They don't very often get a chance to prove it, that's all."