Before she was ready to go to Station Island Jessie Norwood had a few
purchases to make that had nothing to do with little Henrietta Haney.
She had decided to disconnect her radio set and send the instrument down
with the rest of the baggage. In addition, she was determined to take
Monty Shannon's advice and buy the additional parts which made the
Dogtown boy's set so much more successful than her own.
"We'll buy wire for the antenna, of course," Jessie said to Amy. "Let
our old aerial stand till we return. All we shall have to do will be to
hook it up again when we set up the set in my room."
So they bought the wire, the lightning switch, and the other small parts
in New Melford and sent them all on the truck with the trunks to the
dock where the _Marigold_ waited. The next day the two families, the
Norwoods and the Drews, as well as Burd Alling and little Henrietta,
were whisked to the yacht club dock in several automobiles.
The girls had heard from Bertha over the telephone. And considering the
state of mind and body that Mrs. Blair was in, the poor woman was
probably very well content that Henrietta should be in Mrs. Norwood's
care for a while.
The freckle-faced little girl was wild with excitement when she got
aboard Darry's yacht. She had never been on such a craft before.
"I declare," said Amy, "we'll have to put a ball and chain on this kid,
or she will be overboard."
Henrietta stared at her. "Is that one of those locket and chain things
you wear around your neck? I'm going to buy me one when I get my island.
I never did own any joolry."
This set Amy off into a breeze of laughter, but Jessie realized that
Henrietta was perfectly fearless and would need watching while they were
on the yacht.
The _Marigold_ was by no means a new vessel, but it was roomy and
seaworthy. That it was a coal-burner rather than a modern oil-burner, or
with gasoline engines, did not at all decrease its value in the eyes of
its young owner. Darry Drew was inordinately proud of the yacht.
He ran it with a small crew, and he and Burd, or whoever of his boy
friends he had aboard, did a share of the work.
"I declare!" sniffed Amy, "I suppose you will expect Jess and me to go
down and stoke the furnaces for you if you get short handed. Why not?
You expect Mrs. Norwood and mamma to do the cooking."
"Oh, that's only for this voyage. When we have only fellows aboard we
all take turns cooking and get along all right."
"Does Burd cook?" demanded Amy, in mock horror.
"Well, he is pretty bad," admitted Darry, with a grin. "But we let him
cook only on days when the sea is rough."
"And why?" demanded his sister, with wide-open eyes.
"We never feel much like eating on rough days," explained Darry. "You
see, the _Marigold_ kicks up quite a shindy when the sea is choppy."
"Let us hope it will be calm all the way to Station Island," Jessie
cried.
She had her wish. At least, the wind was fair, the sea "kicked up no
combobberation," to quote her chum, and every one enjoyed the sail. If
the _Marigold_ was not a racing boat, her speed was sufficient. They had
no desire to get to the island until the following day.
Darry's sailing master was a seasoned old mariner named Pandrick. They
called him Skipper. At noon the yacht crossed one of the many "banks" to
which New York fishing boats sail and the skipper pronounced the time
opportune for fishing.
"There's blackfish and flounders on the bottom and yellow-fin and maybe
bass higher up. You won't find a better chance, Mr. Darry," observed the
sailing master.
Every one grew excited over this prospect, and the boys got out the
tackle and bait. Even Henrietta must fish. Jessie had been about to
suggest a cushioned seat in the cabin for the little girl, with a pillow
and a rug, for she had seen Henrietta nodding after lunch. The child
would not hear of anything like that.
The anchor was dropped quietly and the _Marigold_ swung at that mooring
while the fishermen took their stations. Darry gave his personal
attention to Henrietta's bait and showed her how to cast her line. The
little girl had been fishing many times, if only for fresh water fish,
and she was not awkward.
"Don't you bother 'bout me, Miss Jessie," she said to her mentor
impatiently. "I bet I get a fish before you do. I ain't so slow."
Amy had fixed a station for her chum beside her own in the shade of the
awning. Mr. Norwood and Mr. Drew had brought their rods. Everybody was
soon engaged in an occupation which really calls for the undivided
attention of the fisherman. The boys ordered all of them to keep quiet.
"You know," observed Burd sternly, "although these fish out here may be
dumb, they are not deaf. You chatterboxes keep quiet."
Jessie was greatly excited. She had a nibble on her hook, then a
positive strike.
"Oh! O-oh" she squealed under her breath. "There's--there's something!"
"Is it a wolf or a bear?" demanded Amy, giggling.
"Can you get it aboard, Jess?" asked Darry, from the other side of the
deck.
Jessie was not awkward. She had pulled in a good-sized fish before. This
one splashed about a great deal and, when she raised it to the surface,
it looked so much like a big rubber boot that Jessie squealed and almost
dropped it.
"Hey! What did I say about that stuff?" called out Burd. "You'll give
all the fish nervous prostration. My goodness! What is that?"
He hurried to give Jessie a hand in hauling up the heavy, slowly
flapping fish. It was half as broad as a dining table, with one side
grayish-white and the other slate color. The skipper gave it a glance
and laughed.
"Virgin," he said. "We don't eat that kind o' fish."
"Oh, dear! isn't it a flounder?" wailed Jessie, disconsolately.
"No, no. 'Tain't worth anything," said the skipper, unhooking the heavy
and ugly-looking fish.
They joked Jessie about the worthless flat-fish, but she laughed, too.
Baiting again, she threw in, and just at that moment there was a heavy
splash from the other side of the yacht.
"Somebody else has got a strike," cried Amy. "Who is it?"
Nobody answered. There seemed to be nobody excited over a bite. The two
lawyers were forward. Darry and Burd were aft. Jessie suddenly dropped
her line and shot across the deck to the other rail.
"Oh, Amy!" she shrieked. "Where is little Hen?"
"You don't mean she's gone overboard?" gasped her chum, excitedly, and
she came running in the wake of Jessie.
Henrietta's fish line was attached to a cleat on the yacht's rail. She
had been standing on a coil of rope so as to be high enough to look over
into the sea. The fear that clamped itself upon Jessie Norwood's mind
was that the little girl had dived headlong over the rail.
"Oh, Henrietta!" she cried. "She--she's gone! She's gone overboard, Amy."
Her chum was quite as fearful as Jessie was, but she tried to soothe her
chum.
"It can't be, Jess! She--she wouldn't do that! She just wouldn't!"
"But you heard that big splash, didn't you?" cried the frightened
Jessie. Then she began to shout as loud as she could: "Help! Help!
Henrietta's overboard! She's gone overboard, I am sure!"