"I jutht wanted to know, that ith all." She lay down, then one by one her companions took their places on the canvas. Harriet was the last to turn in. Before doing so she drew the unoccupied half of the canvas over the girls, leaving Tommy at the fold, as had been promised. There were no pillows. It was a case of lying stretched out flat or using one's arm for a pillow. The latter plan was adopted by most of the girls, though Harriet lay flat on her back after tucking herself in, gazing up at the stars and listening to the surf beating on the shore as the tide came rolling in. Now and then a roller showed a white ridge at its top, the white plainly visible even in the darkness, for the moon had not yet risen.
The campfire burned low, the camp itself being as silent as if deserted. Now and then twitterings in the tree tops might have been heard; were heard, in fact, by Harriet Burrell, but not heeded, for her gaze was fixed, as it had been for some moments, on two tiny specks of light far out on the dark sea. One of the specks was green, the other red. They rose and fell in unison, now and then disappearing for a few seconds, then rising, high in the air, as it appeared. The two lights were the side lights of a boat, red on the port and green on the starboard, and above them was a single white light at the masthead.
"According to those lights the boat is heading directly toward the beach," mused Harriet reflectively. "I wonder if I ought to show a light? No. They know where they are going. Besides, they can see the light of the campfire. The wind is increasing, too."
Harriet dozed. She awakened half an hour later and gazed sleepily out to sea. The same lights were there, though they now appeared to be much nearer. All of a sudden they blinked out and were seen no more.
The girl sat up, rubbing her eyes wonderingly.
"Could they have sunk? No, of course not. How silly of me! The boat has turned about, and the lights are not visible from behind." But she did not lie down at once. Instead, she rested her chin in the palms of her hands and gazed dreamily out over the water. A fresh, salty breeze was now blowing in. She could hear the flap, flap of the canvas of the tents off in the camp, a thin veil of mist was obscuring the stars, the pound of the surf was growing louder and the swish of the water on the beach more surly.
All at once what looked to her to be a huge cloud suddenly loomed close at hand, then began moving along the beach.
"Mercy! what is it?" exclaimed the girl under her breath. She crept from beneath the canvas and ran down to the beach. "It's a ship! How close to the shore they are running, and they have no lights out."
Harriet watched the vessel for some moments. She saw it swing around a long, narrow point of land a short distance to the south of the camp and boldly enter a bay. She was unable to make out with any distinctness what was being done there, but she heard the creak of the boom as it swung over and the rattle of the tackle as the sails came down, though unable to interpret these sounds. Soon there came a sharp whistle from human lips, answered by a similar whistle from the shore, then all was quiet.
Harriet Burrell crept back under the canvas, wondering vaguely what could be the meaning of this. She was too sleepy to think much about it and soon dropped into a sound sleep, from which she was destined to be rudely awakened.