“What does it matter? Can’t we save her without so much red tape?” snapped Darry. “Come on, Skipper! Get out the boat.”
“You mean the little girl who stood right here?” asked the man. “Well, now, I saw how she was playing her line. She didn’t have it fastened to a cleat. And she sure didn’t just now fasten it when she went overboard. No, I guess not.”
“Oh! Maybe he is right,” cried Jessie, with much relief.
“Well, I declare!” grumbled Darry. “It takes you girls to stir up excitement.”
“But where is little Hen?” Amy asked, whirling around to face her brother.
They all stared at one another. The skipper wagged his head.
“You’d better look around, alow and aloft, and see if she ain’t to be found. If she did go down, she ain’t come up again, that’s sure.”
“But that splash!” cried Jessie, anxiously.
“Wasn’t any splash except when I threw that big flatfish overboard,” said the skipper. “And the little girl didn’t scream. I guess she’s inboard rather than overboard—yes, ma’am!”
The four young people separated and scoured the yacht, both on deck and below. At least, the girls looked through the cabin and the staterooms and the boys went into the tiny forecastle. They met again in five minutes or so and stared wonderingly at each other. Little Henrietta had as utterly disappeared as though she had melted into thin air.