“Come, little girl,” said Pauline.
Harry rushed towards his sister.
“Do go, Nellie. Let mother keep one of us. I don’t mind being drowned—not a bit. You tell mother I don’t mind. Go, Nellie; do go with the big brave girl.”
So Pauline carried Nellie through the rising tide, and, marvellous to relate, did land her safely on the other side.
“Now look here,” she said, “you must rush home as fast as you can, and when you get there you are to say that there are two girls and a boy in the White Bay, and that your people are to bring a boat immediately. Don’t waste a second. Find somebody. If all your people are out, go to ours. Our house is No. 11. You understand? There isn’t a minute to lose.”
“Yes, see you go,” shouted Harry Carver. “And if you are too late, be sure you tell mother that I wasn’t afraid to drown.”
Nellie Carver began to run as fast as she could across the sands. Pauline hesitated for a moment; then she deliberately waded back to the other two. The water was up to her waist now, and she had the greatest difficulty in keeping her feet.
“I couldn’t face anybody again if Pen were drowned,” she said to herself. “If she drowns, so will I. It is the only thing fit for me. Perhaps when God sees that I am sorry, and that I did try to save Pen, He will forgive me; but I am not sure. Anyhow, I deserve to be drowned. I could never, never face the others if Pen were to die because of me.”
She was just able to scramble again out of the water on the White Bay side. The tide was coming in with great rapidity. It was hopeless to think of carrying Pen across.
“Let us go to the top part of the bay, as close to the rocks as possible,” said Pauline; “and don’t let’s be really frightened, for I am sure the boat will be in time.”