"Dat's so. Dat's de one ting I nebber t'ought ob. How de nashin'll dem chil'en git ashoah time foh dinnah? I jes' don't want to see Missis Kyle 'bout dis time. Noh Missis Ridgeway. De chil'en's safe 'nuff. De ole Wip Van Rinkle won't sink wid 'em no deeper. I tell ye wot, ole man, ef you knows wot's good foh yourself you jes' go an' ketch youah flounders, an' den you go an' fotch dem chil'en ashoah. It's jes' like me. Dat's wot Missis Kyle'll say. An' Missis Ridgeway. I guess I jes' won't go home by de way ob her house."
He anchored his boat on his chosen fishing ground, and the flounders bit well, and all the while he was pulling them in the fun went forward merrily on board the Rip Van Winkle.
The tide had turned before the "little boarders" took possession of their prize, and now it was rippling strongly around her stern. The water on the bar was fast growing deeper, but none of it poured into the wreck, as it would have done before the holes in her side were mended.
"Hurrah!" shouted Clark Ridgeway. "Her stern's lifting up, and her deck's almost level."
So it was, and it made a better place to play on, but there had been yet another change in the situation. With the rising tide a breeze had risen, and with the breeze a thick white fog had drifted up the bay from the sea. Still, all the children knew something about tides and breezes and fogs, and they were not a bit scared when they found they could not see the shore.
"Barbie," said little Ben, at last, "I want to go home."
"Kisedek's coming."
"I want him to come now."
"Don't be afraid. He'll come.—Oh, boys, the wreck's moving!"
They all held their breath for a moment, and looked at each other, but Willy Kyle shouted, "Hurrah! We're afloat! We've got a ship of our own! Let's play sailor."