“Well, that is practically what we are doing,” replied her chum. “Thank goodness I have had this cup of coffee, anyway. It braces me——”
“Even for drowning?” asked Jessie. “Oh! What is that, Amy?”
“It’s a boat! It’s a boat! Ship ahoy!” shrieked Amy, jumping up and dancing about, dropping the cup and saucer to smash upon the deck.
“It’s a steamboat!” cried Darry Drew, from the deck above.
“Head for it if you can, Bob!” commanded Skipper Pandrick to the helmsman.
But before they could see what kind of craft the other was, the fog surrounded them. It wrapped the Marigold around in a thick mantle. They could not see ten yards from her rail.
“We don’t even know if she is looking for us!” exclaimed Dr. Stanley. “That is too bad—too bad.”
“Whistle for it,” urged Amy. “Can’t we?”
“If we use the little steam left for the whistle, we will have to shut down the engines,” declared Darry.
“This is a fine yacht—I don’t think!” scoffed Burd Alling. “And none of you knows a thing about rescuing this boat and crew but me. Watch me save the yacht.”