“Oh!” Frances sighed. “Much as I want to see Betty I wish this sail would never end. I get so excited I can hardly stand it and, when the spray lands on me, I want to shout.”
“You are just a modern pagan,” said Mabel looking at Frances’ vivid color and sparkling eyes, “and a mighty pretty one too.”
“Away, thou perfidious flatterer. And me freckled as a guinea egg! Jane, pinch her for me.”
“You young’uns get the anchor free. We are going to drop it soon as we lose our way,” called Mr. Wing.
Jane jumped up from her place and took off the ropes that held the anchor, and, balancing it with one hand in a thoroughly professional manner, began spitting over the side in the way she had found so ridiculous in Breck and Mr. Wing a few days since.
“All the way is lost now,” Jane cried in semi-nautical tones that made Breck smile as he pushed the anchor over the side.
Little fishing boats were moored and anchored all around the “Boojum” and soon men had come up on all the decks after the fashion of sailors to see what the latest ship looked like.
Jane and Frances were at the davits, letting down the dinghy as Jack and Ellen came up from below, looking as Frances said rather “pale and pellucid.”
“Now, gents,” began Mabel bouncing up to the little group at the davits, “we girls are going ashore and see Betty and we are going to have a regular reunion of the Camp Fire Girls and we don’t want any of you, much as we love you separately and collectively, to bother us. We’ll take the dinghy and spend the night with Betty if there is room and if there isn’t we’ll take her to a hotel for, goodness knows, there isn’t room on board for another thing.”
“And Jane and I are the ablest little seawomen in the bunch so we are going to row you and Ellen, Mabel,” and Frances steadied the dinghy with a far-reaching foot and leg, while Jane dropped over the side and put in the rowlocks. These two had long since waived the formality of the sea-ladder.