“Two miles, perhaps.”
Two miles! Her heart sank.
“But the wind and waves are with us. We’ll make it.”
“The winds and the waves obey Thy will,” rang through Florence’s ears. “Yes,” she replied, “we will make it.”
For a long time there was no sound save the dip-dip of their strong arms and the occasional swirl of a whitecap as it broke near them.
CHAPTER XXIII
STRANGE DELIVERANCE
An hour passed and still two dark spots, like markers for a gill net, rose above the waves. The moon, rising higher and higher, brought out more distinctly the ragged tree line of Goose Island.
At times the weary girls turned on their backs to float like so much lifeless driftwood. When their weary muscles had gained renewed strength, they began their task again.
There were times when Florence, stout-hearted though she was, was tempted to give up hope. At such times she envisioned the rocky beach, the cabinless forest of scrub trees that must grace the surface of the island. She felt, too, the chill of the wind that must await them there.
“What’s the use?” she asked herself many times. And always the answer came, “One step at a time is enough for me.” She must trust the future.