"What shall we do?" repeated Kate, expecting every moment that the treacherous sails would carry them over again, and that they would soon find their way to the bottom of the river.
"Bale out the water," replied Fanny, taking a pail and a dipper from the cuddy forward. "Now go to work, and we shall soon be ready to sail again."
"I don't want to sail any more," whined Kate.
"Dip away as fast as ever you can. Don't stop to talk about it now."
Fanny took the pail herself, and gave the dipper to Kate, and both of them went to work with a zeal which promised soon to free the Greyhound from the burden under which she was laboring. There was a large quantity of water in the boat, and the process of dipping it out was very slow. Fanny was afraid that this accident would throw her into the power of her great enemy, the constable; and this was the only fear which troubled her. The perils of the mighty river had no terrors to her while she had a plank under her feet.
Kate was utterly disconsolate and hopeless, and Fanny was obliged to use all her ingenuity to keep her in working condition. To show her confidence, she sang like a nightingale, as she dipped out the water; and Fanny was an excellent singer. She labored hard to prove to her desponding companion that there was no danger, and at last she succeeded in restoring Kate to a tolerable degree of self-possession.
When about half the water had been dipped out, Fanny trimmed the sails, and headed the boat down the river, to the utter consternation of her timid associate, who was heartily sick of the adventure, and longed to put her feet on the dry land again.
"Now, Kate, you take the pail, and I will use the dipper; I can work and steer the boat at the same time," said Fanny, when the Greyhound was under headway again.
"The boat is going down the river, Fanny!" exclaimed Kate, as she took the pail.
"Of course she is," replied the bold skipper. "Where did you expect her to go?"