The water continued to gain, and as the boat settled a trifle in consequence of the added weight, its progress was necessarily slower.
The boys were working frantically. Bess and Belle would have gladly helped, but in the narrow limits of the boat they would only have been in the way.
The open space in the bottom of the boat was yawning now. Jack doubled up his sweater and thrust it into the opening, while the others continued to bail.
Still the water gained, and the boat was perceptibly settling. But they were near the island now, and Cora turned the bow toward a low, shelving part.
A moment more and, with a sensation of infinite relief, they felt the bow slide into the mud of the bottom. Jack leaped to the engine and stopped its chugging. Then all took a long breath and looked at each other.
The faces of the boys were white and in the eyes of the girls there was more than a suspicion of anxiety.
“Land ho!” exclaimed Jack, giving his sister a hug.
“Castaways!” cried Paul dramatically.
“But not on a desert island, thank heaven!” said Bess.
“But how are we to get on shore without getting wet?” queried Belle, a lesser anxiety seizing her, now that the greater one was dispelled.