“Look, Sid—light! It’s—it’s—morning!” Mart’s voice came in a thin whisper. For a long time the girls had lain huddled against the taff-rail of the boat, too weary and disheartened to even talk.
Sidney lifted her face to the tiny streak of light that gleamed palely in the east.
Then she shook Pola ever so slightly. Poor Pola had fallen into a sleep of exhaustion. She stirred now with a little cry. “What is it?”
“It’s morning—daylight. See—there—”
“Oh—h!” Pola whimpered. “Is that all?” She clung to Sidney in fresh terror. “If we’re going to die—I’d rather not see—”
“Hark,” cried Mart, suddenly leaning forward. “Don’t you hear something? Girls, that’s a motor boat! I know! Quick. Let’s signal! Yell! Wave something! Anything!” She sprang to her feet, leaning her body against the rail for support as the boat rolled in the heavy sea. She cupped her hands to her lips and shouted lustily. “Come on, girls!” she commanded.
“Maybe it’s the pirates,” wailed Pola.
“I don’t care if it is! I don’t care what it is!” And Mart and Sidney lifted their chorus.
Out of the mist that lay over the surging water a small, gray object gradually shaped. The chug-chug of an engine now came distinctly to their ears. After a little they could make out the forms of two men standing. And then someone shouted faintly.
Pola, a solemn happiness transfiguring her face, clung to Sidney.