“Got to defend our ship,” she breathed. “But we lack ammunition.”
Gull Rock Point is a finger of land three rods wide, a quarter of a mile long, extending straight out into the bay. Its shores are moderately steep and composed entirely of small rocks.
They bumped the shore, threw off their anchor, caught at overhanging branches, and climbed to land.
They looked about. The two boys were on board the sailboat now. They were lifting anchor and setting sail.
“They’ll come after us,” said Tillie, in the calmly assured tone of a great commander. “Load up.” She set the example by piling her left arm with rocks the size of a baseball.
“Don’t shoot till you see the whites of their eyes,” she murmured. “Make every shot count. We can retreat if we must. They’d never find us in the brush. But don’t give up the ship.”
Silence once more hung over the bay as the sailboat glided forward. The rushes whispered, the dragon fly bobbed and the water winked in the sun.
The sailboat was a beautiful thing. Highly varnished it was, and all trimmed in brass.
“Must have cost a small fortune,” was Florence’s mental comment. “They’re rich. How does Tillie dare?”
In all this there was no thought of disloyalty to Tillie. She was ready to fight the affair through at her side.