“Winston,” Margaret said, when they returned, “we are all curious to know how you happened to be here. Will you tell us?”
“Yes, willingly,” was the reply, then the lad slipped an arm about his little sister as though it were a comfort to have her close, when he told, what the girls knew from his expression, would be a sad story. “My father having died,” he began, “my mother, Peggy and I set sail in a merchant ship bound for a port in the South where we were to make our home with my father’s brother. That was last December. There were constant storms and at last the captain told the few passengers that the boat might flounder at any time. My first act was to fasten a life belt about mother, who, not being well, kept to her cabin.
“Little sister had gone up on deck, although a gale was raging and the waves were so high that each one seemed about to break over the deck and engulf us. I was terrorized to see that she had made her way to the bow, and having reached there was afraid to return. Clinging to the rail, she turned toward me a white, pleading face. At that moment the boat tipped so far over that the deck seemed almost perpendicular. ‘Hold fast, Peggy!’ I shouted. I clung to a corner of the cabin until the vessel righted. Then I ran across the unsteady deck and hastily fastened about her the belt I had carried. As I stood up, I heard her scream. She was pointing back of me. I turned and saw a roaring, rushing wave that lifted its angry crest high about the deck. I knew that nothing could save us, but instinctively I caught little sister in one arm and held hard to the rail with my other hand. I tried to shelter her from the torrent of water that surged over us. With tremendous force it hurled us against the rail which instantly snapped and in another moment we were both being whirled about in the seething water back of the boat. No one had seen us, and, even if they had, the merchant ship could not have been turned to come to our rescue. I still held my sister’s dress and with the other hand I was clinging to the part of the rail which had broken, permitting us to fall overboard. For a time we were driven along at an almost breathless speed by the next mountainous wave. At the crest I looked back and was glad to see that the boat had righted and still had a chance of making port, but I have since doubted that, as surely our mother would have had the coast searched for us. Luckily I am an excellent swimmer. I put my sister’s arms over the rail and then swam or floated until at last we found ourselves in calmer water. This assured me that a harbor had been reached.
“My feet soon touched bottom, then, on the next wave, we rode high on the beach, remaining there when it had receded. Since then I have had to recall all that I have read and use a good deal of invention besides, but we have managed to keep alive. Several times I have caught a glimpse of what I believed might be mainland, but I never have been quite sure enough to risk the life of my little sister by venturing out on our small raft. It is none too securely made, as reeds are all that I had to lash together the logs.”
It was very hot in the little sheltered hollow and Sally’s head was nodding by the time that the tale was told.
“Poor girl,” Virg said softly, “she has been terribly frightened, but she has been very brave, I think.”
“You all look tired and sleepy,” the boy rose as he spoke. “I am now going to take Peggy out on my raft for we will need many more fish for the evening meal. Tomorrow you may have a turn,” he assured Virginia before she could voice the protest that he knew was coming, “but right now I want you to all sleep, for at least two hours. Go in our house if you wish.”
But Virginia declared that the warm sandy ground made a good bed. Indeed, as soon as they saw the raft bobbing on little waves in a sheltered harbor, they all lay down and were soon sound asleep.
CHAPTER XXV
A SEARCH STARTED
Meanwhile in Vine Haven Seminary a nearly frantic housekeeper had, as Virginia had prophesied, reported to the sheriff that six girls had started out on a hike at one o’clock of the day before and had not returned. It was then eight in the morning. Mrs. Dorsey’s hope had been that the girls had wandered so far from the school, that they had decided to remain in some sheltered place and return by daylight in the early morning.