The four girls slipped quietly into their clothes. They followed their chaperon out on the deck. There they found her seated, flat on the deck so as not to be thrown off her feet by the wind. Beaten and buffeted by the storm, Madge and Phyllis finally managed to hang their lanterns in the prow and stern of the houseboat. Then the five of them sat down together. "What do you think we had better do?" Phil asked, as cheerily as possible. "There is nothing to do but to stay aboard until we are taken off by some other boat," answered Miss Jones. "We shall have to call out for help." How black and deep the water looked, how unlike the quiet channels in which the houseboat had previously rested. "What time is it, Madge?" inquired their chaperon unexpectedly. Madge fought her way into the cabin. "It is nearly five o'clock," she called. "The dawn will come within the hour." It was difficult to keep a light burning, the wind blew so fiercely, the rain poured down in such heavy sheets. The houseboat party dared not go inside their cabin. They must stay on deck to watch for an approaching boat to tow them safely back to land. They sat in a huddled group, their arms about each other. The gay Japanese parasols, the pretty decorations of the houseboat, had long since blown away. Half a dozen chairs romped and rioted about the deck, turning somersaults, now and then hurling themselves against the railing or the sides of the cabin. The girls could only faintly see one another's faces. Phil had a small fog horn, through which she blew as long as her breath held out. Then she passed it to Lillian and so down the line. The five women sat with their backs to the cabin wall for the sake of the scanty shelter. Eleanor rang a large dinner bell, which she had used on other occasions to summon the houseboat party to their meals. For an hour they waited, in silence save for sounds made by the bell and the horn. Now and then one of the girls cried out for help. But most of the time they stared out on the water, hoping, expecting every instant to see some other craft. The dawn was long in breaking because of the fury of the storm. Miss Jenny Ann began to think that the houseboat had drifted a much longer time than she had at first supposed. They were certainly in dangerous waters. Never in her life had she seen the breakers roll so high. It was a marvel that the "Merry Maid" did not capsize. She and the girls fully realized their danger. Yet no one of them made any outcry. The girls were growing very tired. Now and then one of them fell asleep for a brief instant. Over and over again in Madge's head, as she sat among her friends, so pale and silent, came the sound of the congregation singing in the little stone church near "Forest House": "Oh, hear us, when we call to Thee, For those in peril on the sea!" The words brought comfort to her now.