For the rudder was too much for Amy. The rising waves tore it out of her hands the instant it was loose, and away it went on a voyage of its own.
“There!” exclaimed Jessie, with exasperation. “What do you suppose that grouchy old man will say when we bring him back his boat without the rudder?”
“He won’t say so much as he would if we didn’t bring him back his boat at all,” declared Amy. “I’ll pay for the rudder.”
Jessie felt that the situation was far too serious for Amy to speak so carelessly. She urged Nell to let her help with the oars; and, in truth, the other found handling the two oars with the rising waves cuffing them to and fro rather more than she had bargained for.
Jessie shipped the starboard oar in the bow and together she and Nell did their very best. But the wind swooped down upon them, tearing the tops from the waves and saturating the three girls with spray.
“I guess I know what that white-haired boy tried to tell us,” gasped Amy, from the stern. “He must have seen this thunderstorm coming.”
“All the other boats got ashore,” panted Nell. “We were foolish not to see.”
“Nobody on lookout—that’s it!” groaned Amy. “Oh!”
A streak of lightning seemed to cross the sky, and the thunder followed almost instantly. Down came the rain—tempestuously. It drove over the water, flattening the waves for a little, then making the sea boil.
“Hurry up, girls!” wailed Amy. “Get ashore—do! I’m sopping wet.”