“I don’t know. There are some pools up there. Let’s try them.” They did, but with disappointing results. All the water they tasted was too brackish to drink. They walked over to meet Jack, who was pulling the launch in toward the ledge. It was a wonderful summer morning and the Neck lay green and beautiful across the blue sea. Afar off, a tiny speck beyond Popple Head and the white lighthouse, a lobsterman in a dory was visiting his traps. Seaward a schooner lay hull-down against the clear horizon. Aside from these the ocean was empty. Overhead a flock of gulls wheeled and mewed. Jack bore five small blue-perch when he reached them. He was immensely proud of them, but Hal and Bee viewed them with scant enthusiasm.
“I’d a heap rather have a drink of water,” muttered Bee.
“I know,” Jack agreed. “I’m a bit thirsty too. However, we won’t have to stay here much longer. There’ll be schooners coming out of the harbor before long; power boats, too. One went by just as I got out of the hut, but I couldn’t make him hear or see. It wasn’t very light then. Did you start a fire?”
“Yes,” Hal answered.
“Then I’ll clean these and we’ll have breakfast. You won’t feel so thirsty after you’ve eaten something.” He looked toward the harbor entrance and saw the lobsterman. “I wonder if we can make him see,” he muttered. “I’ll have a try, I guess.” He passed the fish to Bee and climbed back to where the remains of the beacon smouldered, but, although for the better part of ten minutes he waved his cap and, finally, his jacket, the lobsterman paid no heed. “The sun’s back of us,” explained Jack, giving up at last, “and I guess he can’t see me. Well, let’s cook breakfast.”
The fish, although pretty bony, tasted good, after all, and Jack’s prophecy that they would feel less thirsty was verified. Afterwards they went to the top of the ledge and, seating themselves comfortably, began the watch for a rescuer.
But folks seemed unbelievably stupid today. One small schooner which came beating around Popple Head in the faint, flukey breeze from south, actually passed less than a half-mile away from them and the three castaways almost waved their arms off and shouted their lungs out in the endeavor to attract the attention of the four men visible on the schooner’s deck. They could see the man at the wheel plainly as he finally raised his hand and pointed toward the island, and they could see another man walk to the rail amidship and look across. But that was all that happened. Fifteen minutes later the schooner was making good headway toward Fort Point.
“She’s probably going hand-lining off Peterboro’ Shoal,” mused Jack.
“I hope they don’t catch a thing,” murmured Hal disgustedly.
“I hope they all fall overboard and are eaten by a shark,” declared Bee.