Shin Shira, who had seen our accident, was shouting and gesticulating at the edge of the Pond, but the wind was blowing in his direction and carried the sound of his voice away from us, so that we couldn't hear a single word of what he was saying.
"I suppose eventually we shall drift ashore," I said hopefully.
"Yes, but not for hours and hours perhaps," said Lionel dolefully, "because the wind may change, you know, and besides it's getting dusk."
"It certainly isn't a very pleasant look-out," I agreed. "I can't see what we are to do, unless—I say! what's that big box floating towards us?"
Lionel looked in the direction in which I was pointing.
"It's an empty match-box," he said uninterestedly; "that's no good."
"I'm not so sure about that," said I. "Try and get hold of it as it drifts this way. I've an idea."
"I can't see what good an empty match-box can be to us," grumbled Lionel, doing his best, however, to aid me in capturing the prize as it blew against the side of the overturned yacht, which we at last did with some difficulty.
It was a very large box and had evidently been in the water for some time; the paper around it had become unstuck from the sides and hung loose in the water beside it.
"We must get the paper at all cost, and pray be careful not to tear it," I cried.