Now a narrow gleaming gap appeared in the wall of cliffs, and the freighter whistled and lay to.  There began a bustle at the davits, and shouts of “Lower away!” and for the first time it swept over me that we were to be put ashore in boats.  Simultaneously this fact swept over Aunt Jane, and I think also over Miss Browne, for I saw her fling one wild glance around, as though in search of some impossible means of retreat.  But she took the blow in a grim silence, while Aunt Jane burst out in lamentation.  She would not, could not go in a boat.  She had heard all her life that small boats were most unsafe.  A little girl had been drowned in a lake near where she was visiting once through going in a boat.  Why didn’t the captain sail right up to the island as she had expected and put us ashore?  Even at Panama with only a little way to go she had felt it suicidal—­here it was not to be thought of.

But the preparations for this desperate step went on apace, and no one heeded Aunt Jane but Mr. Tubbs, who had hastened to succor beauty in distress, and mingled broken exhortations to courage with hints that if his opinion had been attended to all would be well.

Then Aunt Jane clutched at Mr. Shaw’s coat lapel as he went by, and he stopped long enough to explain patiently that vessels of the freighter’s size could not enter the bay, and that there really was no danger, and that Aunt Jane might wait if she liked till the last boat, as it would take several trips to transfer us and our baggage.  I supposed of course that this would include me, and stood leaning on the rail, watching the first boat with Mr. Shaw, Captain Magnus and the cook, fade to a dark speck on the water, when Mr. Vane appeared at my elbow.

“Ready, Miss Harding?  You are to go in the next boat, with me.  I asked especially.”

“Oh, thanks!” I cried fervently.  He would be much nicer than Mr. Tubbs to cling to as I went down—­indeed, he was so tall that if it were at all a shallow place I might use him as a stepping-stone and survive.  I hoped drowning men didn’t gurgle very much—­meanwhile Mr. Vane had disappeared over the side, and a sailor was lifting me and setting my reluctant feet on the strands of the ladder.

“Good-by, auntie !” I cried, as I began the descent.  “Don’t blame yourself too much.  Everybody has to go some time, you know, and they say drowning’s easy.”

With a stifled cry Aunt Jane forsook Mr. Tubbs and flew to the rail.  I was already out of reach.

“Oh, Virginia!” she wailed.  “Oh, my dear child!  If it should be the last parting!”