"Perhaps you'll be as well pleased if you can _see_ Seavey's Island," replied Clare, smiling. "We passed the other day on our way to the Shoals; and sometime you must take the same trip." For the time this suggestion satisfied Angelina, and she heard with evident pleasure all that Clare and Martine had to say about old Newcastle. Intending to catch the last ferry of the afternoon, Clare and Martine cut short their stay at Little Harbor, delightful though they found the neighborhood with its suggestions of antiquity. They had a long walk before them--long at least for an August afternoon, and they did not reach the pier as quickly as they had hoped. In spite of Clare's intention and Martine's efforts to be prompt, the little tug had left the landing a minute before they reached it. By close calculation, as they glanced at the time-table, they saw that they would be altogether too late in reaching home, if they waited for the next boat. "Isn't it aggravating?" cried Martine, "to have to stand here and wait, when the distance across to Kittery is so little." "There's nothing to do but wait," replied Clare. Martine followed the direction in which she pointed, and saw an old man in a row-boat approaching the pier. "Do you suppose he would take us over?" "Why not? Let's ask him." The two friends, with Angelina following close behind, stood on the end of the pier while the old man was mooring his boat. "Will you row us over to the other side?" asked Martine. He paid no attention to them, but continued tying a knot in his rope. The question was repeated in a slightly different form, and still the old man made no answer. "He must be deaf," said Angelina. "Or the wind's blowing in the wrong direction," said Clare. "We must wait till he comes up to us." When the old man approached, by signs and words they made him understand what they wished, and he smiled pleasantly when Clare put a dollar bill in his hand. "It's worth it," she said in an aside to Martine. "If we cross with him, we shall save two hours on our homeward journey." So the old man untied his boat, which was ample enough for the four, and the girls quickly took their places. "I can't say that I like a deaf boatman," said Clare, "in case of an accident we might find it awkward that he can't hear." "An accident!" exclaimed Martine, who seldom feared any unseen things; "there certainly could be no accident in this quiet water." Before they had gone very far, however, she began to change her mind. The breeze which they had noticed while they were on the landing, now seemed to be blowing violently, and despite its heavy freight the boat rocked violently; it not only rocked, but veered from its course. Martine held her breath, while the excitable Angelina began to scream. "Hush! hush!" said Martine, "it's nothing." "Nothing?" cried Angelina, as a great wave broke over the end of the boat, half drenching her.