“What is it?” Aunt Betty wanted to know.
Dorothy extended her finger toward the formidable looking bank of clouds.
“A storm is coming,” she replied, “and if we don’t hurry and fix the engines we shall be caught in it.”
As if in answer to Dorothy’s remark, Mr. Ronald appeared on deck at this instant. His face wore a troubled expression and the hopes of the guests fell as they noticed it.
“It’s of no use; we can’t find the trouble,” he said. “Looks very like we were in a trap and destined to quite a stay.”
The wind had already commenced to blow. The Nautilus had swung around bow on to the east and was tugging viciously at her anchor.
“If some other boat would only come by and pick us up!” cried Aunt Betty. “Why, we may have to stay out here all night.”
“What of it?” queried Judge Breckenridge.
“Why, Dorothy will be in no shape for the concert to-morrow night—that’s what of it. And Herr and Frau Deichenberg will be worried over our continued absence.”
“The cabin of the yacht will afford comfortable sleeping quarters for you ladies,” said Mr. Ronald. “I regret this occurrence, but now that we are here, with no prospect for getting away under several hours, we must make the best of a bad bargain.”