Left to herself, Florence would not have taken one step toward those racing waters, but inspired by her companion’s splendid courage, she retraced her steps, seized the boat and, with energy born of despair, did her full share of lifting the boat to a higher position.
“Now!” Katie panted. “Now! Now! And now!”
As she heaved away Florence counted the waves. “One, two, three.” Would the fourth be larger?
“Yes! Yes!” she cried, as its dark, shadowy bulk appeared to rise above her. “It—it—is a terrible one.”
“Run!” Katie cried once again.
Florence needed no urging. This time, however, she measured her distance with great care.
With anxious eyes they stared into the darkness. Had they done enough? Had their precious boat been saved, or would it go floating away, never to be seen again? Florence had visions of herself perched on a barren rock through a night of cold and darkness.
“Hurray! We win!” Katie exclaimed. “The boat is still there!”
It was true. The wave had reached out, but not far enough. They were in possession of a shelter from the storm and a means of leaving when the storm had passed. Florence breathed a deep sigh of relief.
“Come,” said Katie, “we must lift it higher.”