It was then that Eleanor noticed that there were no sails. “Girls,” she exclaimed in dismay. “I was going to suggest that we put up the sails and return to the shore, but there aren’t any. It’s just a dismantled old hulk set afloat to sink, or fall to pieces. The incoming tide washed it against that dilapidated old dock, and the outgoing tide is now taking it to sea.”
“And taking us with it!” wailed Barbara.
The six girls seated themselves on the benches under the rails and looked at each other in despair. Suddenly Betsy laughed. Her friends always said that she would laugh at her own funeral.
“Well, anyway,” she announced, “we’re having what we wished for. The Adventure Club is having an adventure.”
Virginia, being the oldest girl and president of the club, felt that she was really responsible for all that had happened. “I ought to have insisted that we go back when I first felt—well—as though something was going to happen—something tragic.”
Margaret looked up with interest. “Virg, did you feel that way? So did I, but I didn’t want to spoil Betsy’s fun by grumping about her plan.”
“I’ll take the blame, that is, I mean, with Mrs. Martin,” that maiden said meekly, then added with her inevitable desire to tease. “Sally is the only one of us who is ready to die. She knows how to play a harp.”
“What time is it, Megs?” Virg asked, then added, as the thought came to her, “You’d better wind your watch, dear. We’d feel so helpless if it ran down.”
“If Winona were with us, she could tell time by the sun,” Babs volunteered. “She gave me a few lessons. Wait a minute till I try.” Then, a second later, she continued. “The month being May, I believe that it is now about four o’clock, since it is dark at seven.”
“Right you are! It is two minutes to four.” Megsy was winding her wrist watch as she spoke.