"Jest goin' to take the ropes off your pretty hands, dearie," was the smirking answer. "You don't need them now. You can't run away, you know. Tee-hee!" and she tittered in glee.
Betty felt it better to submit to the ministrations of the crone, for the sake of being released from the bonds, which hurt her cruelly. For they had been pulled tight by the fishermen. It was some time after the ropes were taken off her ankles and wrists before Betty felt the blood circulating normally.
Amy lay inert on the rude bunk where she had been placed. Betty noticed there were sleeping accommodations for three in the place, and with a shudder she wondered if the old woman was to be their companion on the voyage that seemed to have begun. For the schooner was pitching and tossing on a ground swell, that seemed to presage a change of weather.
"Oh—oh, Betty! What has happened?" faltered Amy, as she opened her eyes. The cloth had been removed from her mouth and the ropes loosed. Having done this much the old woman crouched on the third bunk, smiling, muttering to herself, and looking from one girl to the other.
"Oh, Betty—what does it mean?" repeated Amy.
"I don't know, but I'm going to find out soon," declared the Little Captain, with a return of her usual courage. She felt better now that she had the use of her arms and legs. She started toward the door.
"It's locked—on the outside, my dearie!" chuckled the old woman. "And it won't be opened until I call to 'em. So there's no use in makin' a fuss, my dear!"
"Stop your senseless talk!" snapped Betty. "Don't dare call me by that name, you—you horrid creature."
"No use gettin' mad," said the crone, and she showed a change of temper. "You're here, and you're goin' to stay until we put you on shore, so you might as well make up your mind to that."
"We demand to be put on shore at once!" cried Betty. "Evidently you and—and those with you have made some mistake. We will not make trouble for you, if you set us ashore at once. If not——"