Also the tilting of the house was in the direction of that side where was the window by which they had entered, so that the upper part, corresponding to the sill, was nearer to the water, so they could more easily get over it, and into the Clytie.
In an instant Mr. Ringold had leaped into the boat and moved back out of the way, to make space for the others.
“Go ahead, boys!” cried Mr. Piper, as he stood to one side in the house, near the window, and waited for Blake and Joe.
“No, you go!” insisted Blake.
“Come on—don’t argue! She’s going to turn over again!” cried Mr. Ringold, and then the gloomy comedian fairly thrust, first Joe, and then Blake, through the window, from which the sash had been broken. The moving picture actor followed an instant later, and not a second too soon.
“Cut the rope!” yelled the manager, who was holding Charlie. The boy was crying again, probably from fright.
With one stroke of his keen-bladed knife, Blake severed the cable, and the boat drifted away from the house.
And, no sooner was the craft free than, amid a great swirl of the waters, the dwelling turned right-side up again, the furniture and kitchen utensils inside falling from ceiling to floor with a crash.
So big was the wave caused by this righting of the house that the Clytie was nearly swamped. She bobbed about on the swell, and went nearly over. But she was a well balanced craft, and, after a bit, rode on an even keel once more.
“Narrow escape, that,” said Mr. Ringold, solemnly, as he tried to comfort Charlie. The little lad was sobbing: