"Shorten sail!" she called. "Shorten sail!"
Herbert appeared to be losing control of the boat and of his own wits, and the boat seemed at the mercy of the wind.
Marjory called frantically to them to take in a certain sail and reef another—directions which, even if they could have heard them, would have been as Greek to the occupants of the boat; but the wind carried her voice away, and she stood helpless, watching Herbert's bungling attempts. Another moment, and the mast was broken, and in falling dealt Herbert a blow on the head which stunned him for the time being.
Quick as thought, Marjory threw off her coat and boots and was in the water, calling Silky to come too. Curly had been well trained, and was a very clever, sensible dog by this time, and she ordered him to go home and fetch his master, hoping that he might attract some one's notice.
Straining every nerve, Marjory swam towards the boat. "Throw out the towline!" she screamed to the girls as soon as she was near enough for them to hear her. Maud, now thoroughly frightened, did as she was bid, and Marjory called to Silky, "Seize it, good dog! seize it!" The water was not very rough, but she knew that it was deep in this particular place, and the boat was being driven like a bird with a broken wing.
Silky, good dog that he was, got hold of the rope, which happily had some floats attached to it, and began swimming steadily back towards his mistress. Marjory caught the rope, and by its means drew herself to the boat, carefully got into it, and in a very few minutes, having done what was necessary, she took to the oars. Blanche was lying in Maud's arms, overcome by terror, and Herbert was quite stupefied by the knock on his head.
Help was nearer than Marjory had imagined. Looking to the shore to see if she could put in at once without having to row against the wind all the way to the landing-stage, she saw a man waving his arms as a signal to her. She bent all her strength to her task, and it was no light one.
The man on shore, having taken off his coat and his boots, was wading in, ready to receive the boat. The storm was coming on apace, great drops of rain began to fall, and the sky was dark and lowering.
A few more strokes were all that was needed to bring them within reach of strong arms; but why did Marjory feel so tired, and as if she could not go on? She must go on! How thankful she felt that there was some one at hand if she should fail—if—One last stroke, and then a confused sound of shouting, a grating noise as if some one were shooting a load of stones. It must be Peter in the garden, and she was dreaming—dreaming.
Curly had trotted off obediently in the direction of Braeside. Mr. Forester, strolling across the park, expecting to meet the girls returning home for lunch, was very much surprised to meet the dog, who behaved in such a way as to arouse his fears of something being wrong. To begin with, Blanche and her dog were inseparable companions, as a rule, and it was strange that Curly should come home alone. Besides, he seemed in such an excited state; he kept jumping up at Mr. Forester, and then running forward and barking as if he wished his master to follow. Curious, and somewhat alarmed, Mr. Forester went after the dog, and arrived upon the scene just in time to see the boat come in. An exclamation of dismay broke from him as he saw the condition of its occupants, and he rushed forward to help the man to draw it up on shore.