On—on it came—first on the crest of a wave, then hid from sight in the bottom of the swell.
Pull to the west! Pull to the west! cried Old Shell. But the sound of his voice was drowned by the incessant slash of the water. Nearer and nearer the fatal rock is approached. The canoe is raised on the top of the crest, and as the water recedes, it strikes amidships and is broken into fragments. The next wave drives the wreck and occupants ashore. Shell stood ready, and caught them before the undertow could carry them back. Taking one under each arm, he carried them into his cabin and laid them down before the fire.
The girls were wet but not seriously injured, and were soon on their feet.
The reader must remember that, although Amy knew that another person had been added to their number, she had not seen Cora until her face was revealed by the light of the fire.
The first glance amazed her. She saw in her the likeness of herself as plainly as if she had looked in a glass.
Cora was equally astonished, and for the time doubted her own identity.
Neither of them seemed to be inclined to speak, or rather each of them was waiting for the other to say something. This surprised the old man, who had relit his pipe, and was puffing away in the corner.
He commenced:
I say, gals, I suppose that this is new quarters for you. But, sailors say “any port in a storm.” But I guess this a safer place than the one you were being tossed about on out there on the rocks. But you are safe now, and in the morning I will take you on shore. It was lucky for you that I was at home, and I did not get home any too soon. If I had stayed at the Judge’s any longer I could not have got home before morning.