had he not suddenly noticed something that knocked both the departure of Aunt Mattie and the affair of the field-glasses completely out of his head.
“Oh, look, Captain Saulsby,” he cried; “look what’s happened to the Josephine!”
Not one of them had noticed that the wind had changed. But the little Josephine had, for she had altered her course and instead of heading for the sandy beach opposite, was speeding away for the harbour’s mouth and the open sea. The breeze was steadily freshening, the little boat as steadily gathering headway, so that it would not be long before she would pass the headland and be out of sight.
“Oh, stop her,” cried Billy, in frantic excitement. “Oh, isn’t there any way to stop her.”
The old man was quite as distressed as he.
“We can’t lose her,” he exclaimed; “we never could lose the Josephine!” He stood gazing helplessly after the fast-vanishing little vessel. “What on earth can we do?”
He thought a minute and then turned to hurry awkwardly down the path toward the wharf.
