“Sa-ay!” exclaimed Rob, drawing a long breath, as he handed the glasses to Merritt, “there’s a woman on that schooner.”
“Wh-at!”
The exclamation came from all the lads simultaneously.
“That’s right,” confirmed Merritt the next minute. “I can see her standing at the stern. Seems to be right by the wheel.”
Their faces grew grave, as in turn they gazed at the little vessel clawing valiantly for sea room, but being beaten back on every tack.
“From the way she acts I guess her rudder’s broken,” reasoned Rob. “It seems as if she won’t head into that wind, and from her rig she ought to do a whole lot better than she is doing.”
Suddenly Paul, who was holding the glasses, uttered a sharp cry. His face was pale as the others turned to him to find out the reason for his exclamation.
“Say, fellows, there’s a kid—a little fellow on board there, too.”
“The dickens!”
“That’s right. Gee Willikens, can’t we do anything but stand here like a lot of clams? We are a fine bunch of Boy Scouts,” burst out Rob.