The Girl Scouts at Sea Crest Part 20

"That's the simplest way of putting it," replied Eugenia.

"Then," said Grace, still imbued with the spirit of fun. "Where do we go from here?"

"That's a delicate question," replied Helen, for both Mae and Eugenia were too busy to pay heed to nonsense.

For some time they tried all tactics known to navigators caught in a similar predicament, then finally settled down to make the best of a bad bargain.

"Why can't we go in to sh.o.r.e on the little boat?" asked Grace, still anxious to try the dory.

"What good would that do us?" asked Mae.

"Some one may be camped there," Grace added further.

"Even so, a camper couldn't move the Blowell more than we can," said Eugenia.

"Our only hope is a tow," reflected Mae, "and I don't see a launch, and no launch could ever see us in this pocket."

"I'm so sorry I suggested the islands," said Grace contritely. "Of course, I'm a very green sailor."

"Not your fault in the least," Eugenia a.s.sured. "We should have known better."

"And when may the tide come in?" asked Julia innocently.

"Some time A. M.," said Mae, hiding her concern with a brave show of indifference.

"Do you mean to say we must stay out here all night?" gasped Helen.

"I hate to say it, but it may be true," said Mae slowly. "Still, a launch may loom up. Any provisions left?"

At this the remains of their lunch were dragged out from the cabin, and as they viewed the most glorious sunset they had ever witnessed, they munched crumbs, and tried to keep up their spirits, which were plainly going down with the ball of red gold.

It was a gloomy prospect. No way of sending a message home, no one to give them a tow, and as Cleo put it just "n.o.body nor nawthin'."

It was fast coming nightfall! Brave as they were the scouts worried more about the home folks than they did at their own predicament.

"If I could only let mama know!" sighed Julia with a melancholy look at the only things moving, and they were merely sunset clouds.

"Never give up," counselled Mae. "We are in no danger, at least that is something."

"What's that song about the 'dove on the mast'?" asked Cleo moodily.

"Something about he did mourn, and mourn and mourn."

"Don't you dare perpetrate that," said Mae. "You are thinking of the famous old sob song, 'Oh, Fair Dove, oh, Fond Dove'. But please forget it. It does not fit in the picture."

"Just the same," insisted Grace, "I think we ought to go in to that island. See how dark it is getting, and there might be some help there."

With an amount of coaxing Grace and Cleo, with Eugenia and Helen, were finally allowed to row into sh.o.r.e, and as the water was perceptibly shallow, it was decided by Mae, as captain, that the little trip could be made in perfect safety.

"I must stay with the Blowell," she said, "as I might feel an under current strong enough to move us. Don't delay too long."

They were glad to leave the sail boat, if only temporarily. It had become monotonous, if not actually gloomy to sit there, longing to move.

A short pull brought the dory on to land, and briskly the girls sprang ash.o.r.e. Along the edge just a stretch of sand, untraveled, greeted them.

"No footprints here," Grace remarked. "But it's nice and smooth; a lovely little island."

"Yes, if we were merely looking for nature's beauties," replied Eugenia.

"But just now we would rather run across a stuttering telephone."

"There is a wireless station somewhere around here," said Cleo. "I remember reading about it being outside of Sandy Hook."

"Do you suppose we are outside of anything?" asked Helen. "I feel we are tied with a drawstring in nature's hip pocket."

"Here's a footprint," called Cleo. "Just look; here's a sign!"

All ran toward her and found tacked on a tree a crudely marked cardboard. On this they managed to decipher the words, "Peter Pan" and "Take me to Mama."

"Perhaps some picnic children left that here," decided Eugenia. "No other sign of mortal habitation about."

"Yes, here is a child's shovel and pail, and a lot of child's play tools," said Helen.

"Relics of the same outing party," commented Louise. "Just see if you can't dig up something more humanly tangible, Helen."

Dusk made the woods almost dark, and lest they should stray too far inland Mae was to give signals on her police whistle. Three short and two long would mean "hurry back." Occasionally they stopped to listen for the call.

"Some child has been digging here very recently," insisted Cleo. "This sand and clay are damp yet."

"The picnic might have been to-day," Louise replied.

"You're not very encouraging Weasie. Just see how deep this hole is, and how it is being dug--like--a tunnel."

Every one followed Cleo's plea for an investigation, and at each turn they seemed to come upon more toys and tools, such as little boys play with.

"And here's another sign," called Helen. "On yellow paper, too."

This brought the scouts to close attention. The sign was evidently an attempt at a message, and carried the same words "Peter Pan" and "Bring me to Mamma," but with it was a pathetically written word "Please,"

through the letters of which were crudely drawn, by surely a childish hand, the quaintest little flowers.

"Just see!" said Cleo. "No child on a picnic would take time to draw flowers in a sign." She turned over the card and found on the reverse side the words that might mean "I--dig--out----"

Eugenia who was familiar with kindergarten work, readily recognized this as an attempt made by some child who had been taught to make floral words to indicate loving messages. She was turning the paper over carefully when the signal for "Hurry Back" was sounded shrilly on the police whistle.

"Hurry, hurry, hurry!" called Eugenia, and scampering through the woods, they jumped into their little boat and started off, Cleo still carrying the two Peter Pan messages.

Reaching the clearance they could see a launch pulled up beside the Blowell.

"Oh, joy!" fairly screamed Helen. "A launch!"

It did not take long to row back to the sand bar, where Mae had already been towed off, out into the welcome deep water.