“Where are the boats?” asked Katherine, who was the first through the door. Yes, where were they? They were no longer fastened where the Captain had left them. Far out in the lake they saw them, still tied together, bobbing up and down on the baby waves.
The girls uttered a shriek of dismay, all except Katherine, who exclaimed in comical amazement, “What do you know about that?”
“I thought I had them tied fast,” said the Captain ruefully. “What in the name of goodness are we going to do now?”
“Don’t ask me,” said the Monkey, gazing in a fascinated way at the swiftly fleeing boats. There was a strong current among the islands up here which 200 was sweeping the runaways very fast toward the channel.
“Stranded!” exclaimed the Captain.
“Marooned!” said the Bottomless Pitt.
“Shipwrecked!” said the Monkey.
“Desoited!” cried Katherine, wringing her hands and rolling her eyes. “Left to perish miserably in the middle of the sea! Now, Count Flamingo, you have your revenge!”
“Just the same,” said Gladys when she had finished laughing at Katherine’s absurd heroics, “we’re in a fine pickle. Just how are we going to get out of here?”
“Let’s see,” said Katherine, puckering her brow. “What do people usually do on such occasions? We’ve been in ‘fine pickles’ before, and we’ve always gotten out of them. Isn’t the proper thing to do when you’re locked up in a lonely tower to sing siren-like music until the noble hero hears you and comes to the rescue? Do you suppose my secret lover would ever mistake my sweet voice for anyone else’s, once he heard it wafted in on the breeze?”