"Even if your husband isn't brave," I said, "he's clever, clever and deep."
"My husband not brave!" she cried. "I like that; he's the bravest man I ever saw."
"Well, that may be," I said doubtfully, "but, considering that on the way out to the duelling ground, or water, when nobody was looking but Sally and me, he kicked the box of cartridges overboard. But, perhaps they'll agree to use pocket-knives—"
"Sam," said little Miss Tombs, "I'll give you a kiss good-morning if you'll be serious."
"Wait till Fitch is looking," I said.
Then Sally explained what had happened, and edged herself so politely between little Miss Tombs and me that the others laughed.
"They'll float at high tide, won't they?" asked Mrs. Giddings.
"No," I said. "It was high tide when they ran aground. It will take a tugboat to get them off."
The words weren't out of my mouth when a tugboat appeared round the corner of the island, making up the channel. The men on the float began to scream and yell, and jump up and down, and wave their arms. But the tugboat paid no attention. It thought they were drunk. It passed within three hundred yards of them, whistled a couple of times, and became small in the distance.
"Sam," said Sally, "in about an hour they'll be high and dry on the mud. Then not even a boat can get to them. And by the time it's high tide again it will be dark and nobody will see them, and they'll be dying of hunger and thirst."