Nell laughed aloud, serious as the situation was. “I guess Burd would put his head out of that window and bawl for help.”
“Darry wouldn’t,” declared Jessie, firmly. “He would know what to do. He would realize that it would not do to start a panic.”
“But if the door has been locked on us?”
“Darry would know what to do with that old lock. He’d—he’d find a way. Find out what the matter with it was.”
Jessie sprang at the door again. She stooped down and looked at the under side of the brass lock. Then she uttered a shrill squeal of delight.
“What is it now?” gasped Nell.
“I’ve got it! There is a snap here that holds the knob so you can’t turn it! I must have snapped it when I came in!” She jerked the door open and ran. “Come on, Nell!”
“Well, of all things!” gasped her friend.
But she followed her friend out of the stateroom. They ran as well as they could through the cabin and got out upon the open deck. Skipper Pandrick, in glistening oilskins and sou’wester was far aft with his glasses to his eyes. He was watching a dark spot upon the stormy horizon that might have been steamer smoke, or a gathering storm cloud.
The girls ran up to him, but Jessie pulled Nell’s sleeve to admonish her to say nothing that might be overheard by the other passengers.