Portia meanwhile had discovered the naphtha engine, and, after experimenting several times with the various levers and stop-cocks, had finally managed to move one of them in such a way as to set the engine going, and the wheel began to revolve. “Are we going all right?” she cried, from below. “I am afraid not,” said the gallant commander. “The wheel is roiling up the water at a great rate, but we don’t seem to be going ahead very fast—in fact, we’re simply moving round and round as though we were on a pivot.” “I’m afraid we’re aground amidships,” said Xanthippe, gazing over the side of the House-boat anxiously. “She certainly acts that way—like a merry-go-round.” “Well, there’s something wrong,” said Mrs. Noah; “and we’ve got to hurry and find out what it is, or those men will be back and we shall be as badly off as ever.” “Maybe this has something to do with it,” observed Mrs. Lot, pointing to the anchor rope. “It looks to me as if those horrid men had tied us fast.” “That’s just what it is,” snapped Mrs. Noah. “They guessed our plan, and have fastened us to a pole or something, but I imagine we can untie it.” Portia, who had come on deck, gave a short little laugh. “Why, of course we don’t move,” she said—“we are anchored!” “What’s that?” queried Mrs. Noah. “We never had an experience like that on the Ark.” Portia explained the science of the anchor. “What nonsense!” ejaculated Mrs. Noah. “How can we get away from it?” “We’ve got to pull it up,” said Portia. “Order all hands on deck and have it pulled up.” “It can’t be done, and, if it could, I wouldn’t have it!” said Mrs. Noah, indignantly. “The idea! Lifting heavy pieces of iron, my dear Portia, is not a woman’s work. Send for Delilah, and let her cut the rope with her scissors.” “It would take her a week to cut a hawser like that,” said Elizabeth, who had been investigating. “It would be more to the purpose, I think, to chop it in two with an axe.” “Very well,” replied Mrs. Noah, satisfied. “I don’t care how it is done as long as it is done quickly. It would never do for us to be recaptured now.” The suggestion of Elizabeth was carried out, and the queen herself cut the hawser with six well-directed strokes of the axe. “You _are_ an expert with it, aren’t you?” smiled Cleopatra. “I am, indeed,” replied Elizabeth, grimly. “I had it suspended over my head for so long a time before I got to the throne that I couldn’t help familiarizing myself with some of its possibilities.” “Ah!” cried Mrs. Noah, as the vessel began to move. “I begin to feel easier. It looks now as if we were really off.” “It seems to me, though,” said Cleopatra, gazing forward, “that we are going backward.” “Oh, well, what if we are!” said Mrs. Noah. “We did that on the Ark half the time. It doesn’t make any difference which way we are going as long as we go, does it?”