"I don't know where we shall find one."
"Neither do I, but there must be some sort of craft that plies back and forth regularly."
"Only once or twice a week, I believe, and it belongs to the sanitarium." She nodded toward some buildings perched upon a point farther around the bay. "Mr. Cortlandt looked it up before leaving and found the boat doesn't run on Sundays, so he hired that launch. Perhaps we'd better wait awhile; our men may come back."
They found seats in the square and were grateful for the rest; but an hour passed and the sun was getting low, while no sign of their truant craft appeared.
"There must be sail-boats to be had," said Kirk; but on inquiry they learned that, although a few belonged to the island, they all happened to be away. He suggested that they hire a man to row them across.
"It's twelve miles," Edith demurred. "Do you think it would be safe?"
He scanned the twilit sea and gave up the idea; for the afternoon trades, balmy and soothing as they were, had lifted a swell that would prove difficult for a skiff to navigate. Uneasily they settled themselves for a further wait. At last, as the sun was dipping into a bed of gold, Kirk broke out:
"Gee whiz! We've got to do SOMETHING. Mr. Cortlandt will be getting worried."
"In all probability he won't know anything about it until too late to come for us. He is dining with these people from Bocas, and may not get back to the Tivoli before midnight."
"Nice fix we're in!" remarked Anthony. "I'd like to lay hands on that captain."