“Not at all,” corrected Grant. “The anchor chain has caught, that’s all.”
“Where are we?”
“I can’t see.”
“We must be somewhere near shore,” said John.
“We might be on a shoal.”
“No, there’s land,” cried John. “I can see it.”
“Maybe it’s on our island,” said George. “Wouldn’t that be queer.”
“Well, I wish the old storm would be over so we can see just where we are located,” exclaimed Fred. “I’ve had enough of this.”
“You’d better be thankful the anchor holds and not worry about anything else,” observed Grant. “So far we can’t complain.”
“It’s stopping,” said George suddenly. “The sun will be out in a minute.”