He did not think she realised the
gravity of the situation, but something in the little smile that twitched
her lips undeceived him.
"The sea was full of boats a little while ago," he said. "They have
probably gone in for the lunch hour. But they will be out again
presently. We shall have to drift about for a while and then run up
a distress signal. It will be all right."
She nodded to him and laughed.
"Splendid, Big Bear! You talk like an oracle. I guess we'll run up my red
parasol on the end of an oar for a danger sign. Bert could see that from
the terrace." She glanced shorewards as she spoke, and he saw her face
change momentarily. "Why," she said quickly, "I thought we were close
in. What's happened?"
Merefleet looked round with sullen perception of a difficult situation.
"The wind is blowing off shore," he explained. "It was north when we
started. But it has gone round to the west. It will be all right, you
know. We can't drift very far in an hour."
But he did not speak with conviction. The sea tumbled all around them,
a mighty grey waste. And the shore seemed very far away. A dismal outlook
in truth. Moreover it was beginning to rain.
Mab sheltered herself under her sunshade and began to laugh. "It's just
skittles to what it might be," she said consolingly.
But Merefleet did not respond. He knew that the wind was rising with
every second, and already the little boat tipped and tossed with perilous
buoyancy.
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