“He will—I know He will,” answered Pauline; and just at that instant there came a cry from Harry.
“A boat! a boat!” he shrieked. “And it’s coming our way. I knew Nellie was a brick. I knew she’d do it.”
A boat rowed by four men came faster and faster over the waves. By-and-by it was within a stone’s-throw of the children. A big man sat in the stern. Harry glanced at him.
“Why, it’s father!” he cried. “Oh, father, why did you come home? I thought you had gone away for the day. Father, I wasn’t a bit afraid to drown—not really, I mean. I hope Nellie told you.”
“Yes, my brave boy. Now, see, when I hold out my hand, spring up carefully or the boat will capsize.”
The next instant a stalwart hand and arm were stretched across the rapidly rising waves, and Harry, with a bound, was in the boat.
“Lie down in the boat, and stay as quiet as a mouse,” said his father.
Pauline, already up to her waist in water, struggled a step or two and was dragged into the boat; while two of the men bent over, and, catching Penelope round the waist, lifted her into their ark of shelter.
“It was touch-and-go, sir,” said one of the sailors who had accompanied Harry’s father. “Five minutes later and we could have done no good.”