“I’ll have to get Neale or Hank,” mused Mr. Howbridge. “But I hate to ask them to stop. The safety of the Bluebird may depend on how quickly they get the motor started. And yet—”
He heard some one approaching along the lower deck and a moment later a flash of lightning revealed to him Ruth.
“I heard some one in here,” said the Corner House girl, “and I came to see who it was. I thought maybe the door had blown open and was banging.”
“I was looking for an anchor, and I have found one, though I can’t move it alone,” the lawyer said. “But why have you left your sisters?”
“Because Mrs. Mac is telling them a Scotch story. She has managed to interest them, and, at the same time, she is forgetting her own troubles. So I came out. Let me help move the anchor, or whatever it is.”
“Spoken like Martha!” said Mr. Howbridge. “Well, perhaps your added strength will be just what is needed. But you must be careful not to strain yourself,” he added, anxiously.
“I am no baby!” exclaimed Ruth. “I want to help! Where is it?”
Flashing his light again, her guardian showed her, and then, while the wind seemed to howl in fiercer fury, if that were possible, and while the rain beat down like hail-pellets, they managed to drag out on deck the heavy piece of iron, which seemed to be some part of a machine.
The storeroom opened on that side of the deck where the superstructure of the houseboat gave some shelter, and, working in this, Ruth and Mr. Howbridge managed to get the frayed end of the anchor rope attached to the heavy iron.
“Now if we can heave this overboard it may save us from drifting on the rocks until Neale and Hank can get the engine to working again,” said the lawyer.