But the wind sprang up a little later and began to blow fitfully. The skipper considered it safer to keep well out to sea. Inshore waters are often dangerous even for a craft of as light draught as the Marigold.
The crowd sat on deck, keeping as much as possible in the shelter of the deckhouse, and were just as jolly as though there was no such thing on the whole ocean as a storm. Dr. Stanley told them several of his funny stories, and amused the young folks immensely.
In the midst of the general hilarity Nell went below for something. She was gone for some minutes and Jessie, at least, began to wonder where she was when she saw Nell’s hand beckoning to her from an open stateroom window. Jessie got up and moved toward the place, wondering what the doctor’s daughter had discovered that so excited her.
“What is it, Nell?” Jess whispered.
“Come down here—do!” exclaimed the other girl, her tone half muffled.
“What is the matter?” Jessie exclaimed, in wonder.
But she slipped around to the other side of the cabin, faced the gale, and reached the companionway. She darted down, being careful to shut tight the slide behind her. Already the waves were buffeting the small yacht and spray was dashing in over the weather rail.
Jessie found some difficulty in keeping her feet in the close cabin. It was so dark outside that the interior of the yacht was gloomy. She groped her way to their stateroom, which was the biggest aboard.
“What is the matter, Nell?” demanded Jessie, pushing open the door and peering in.
Nell Stanley’s face was white. She stood by the open window. At Jessie’s appearance she began to sob and tremble.