“I will repair to the deck and get our bearings,” said Mrs. Noah, putting her shawl over her shoulders. “Meantime, Cleopatra, I appoint you first mate. See that things are tidied up a bit here before I return. Have the windows washed, and to-morrow I want all the rugs and carpets taken up and shaken.”
Portia meanwhile had discovered the naphtha engine, and, after experimenting several times with the various levers and stop-cocks, had finally managed to move one of them in such a way as to set the engine going, and the wheel began to revolve.
“Are we going all right?” she cried, from below.
“I am afraid not,” said the gallant commander. “The wheel is roiling up the water at a great rate, but we don’t seem to be going ahead very fast—in fact, we’re simply moving round and round as though we were on a pivot.”
“I’m afraid we’re aground amidships,” said Xanthippe, gazing over the side of the House-boat anxiously. “She certainly acts that way—like a merry-go-round.”
“Well, there’s something wrong,” said Mrs. Noah; “and we’ve got to hurry and find out what it is, or those men will be back and we shall be as badly off as ever.”
“Maybe this has something to do with it,” observed Mrs. Lot, pointing to the anchor rope. “It looks to me as if those horrid men had tied us fast.”
“That’s just what it is,” snapped Mrs. Noah. “They guessed our plan, and have fastened us to a pole or something, but I imagine we can untie it.”
Portia, who had come on deck, gave a short little laugh.
“Why, of course we don’t move,” she said—“we are anchored!”