In the silence that followed,
the steady splash of oars could be heard, and again a rousing cheer rang
out from those who were left upon the motionless steamer. Edith Longworth
raised herself on tiptoe and looked out of the open window. On the crest
of a wave, five hundred yards away from the vessel, she saw the boat for
a moment appear, showing the white glitter of her six dripping oars; then
it vanished down the other side of the wave into the trough of the sea.
'Now, Miss Brewster', she said, 'you are at liberty to go.'
CHAPTER XIII.
After Edith Longworth left her, Jennie Brewster indulged in a brief spasm
of hysterics. Her common-sense, however, speedily came to her rescue;
and, as she became more calm, she began to wonder why she had not
assaulted the girl who had dared to imprison her. She dimly remembered
that she thought of a fierce onslaught at the time, and she also
recollected that her fear of the boat leaving during the struggle had
stayed her hand. But now that the boat had left she bitterly regretted
her inaction, and grieved unavailingly over the fact that she had
stopped to write the account of the disaster which befell the _Caloric_.
Had she not done so, all might have been well, but her great ambition to
be counted the best-newspaper woman in New York, and to show the editor
that she was equal to any emergency that might arise, had undone her.
While it would have been possible for her to send away one telegram, her
desire to write the second had resulted in her sending none at all.
Pages:
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118