When they entered into a little trickery with Sir Lionel, they had no idea it would turn out so tragically, and the possible serious consequences now staring them in the face make them uneasy.
"No; it could not," returns that worthy.
"Then, if floating still, we must find it.

Our only chance lies there." Fortunately John is, in a measure, self-possessed.

He at least shows himself equal to the emergency.
They pull in the direction where it is most likely they will find what they seek.
John twists his neck as he rows, and endeavors to scan the sea around them.

Again and again he calls out, hoping in the fullness of his heart that some answering cry may come back.
What leaden seconds those are--never can they forget them.
"I see something!" says Aunt Gwen, who is crouching in the bow, regardless of the spray that now and then spatters her.
"Where away ?" demands John, eagerly.
"Straight ahead." They pull with fierce energy.
"Can you make it out ?" "It's the swamped boat," replies Aunt Gwen, who has remarkable eyes for one of her age.
John shouts again.
"Boat ahoy!" This time an answer comes back, but not in the roar of the British lion.
"Here--come quickly--I am nearly worn-out!" John's heart gives a great bound.
"Thank Heaven! It is Lady Ruth!" he says..