P. gave the appropriate heart-rending cry for succor. But in
spite of the prevailing calm, he perceived that there was a surf upon
the rocks, and a noise of many waters. At the top of his voice Mr. P.
again shouted.
"Hello, IDA!"
But he soon found that he would have to hello longer as well as hello
IDA, and he did it.
At last she heard him.
Dropping her work-basket, she ran to the edge of the rock, and making a
trumpet of her hands, called out:
"Ahoy there! What's up?"
"Me!" answered Mr. P., "but I won't be up very long. Haste to my
assistance, oh maiden! ere I sink!"
Then she shouted again:
"I've got no boat! It's over to MCCURDY's, getting caulked!"
No boat!
Then indeed did Mr. P. turn pale, and his knees did tremble.
But IDA was not to be daunted. Bounding like a chamois o'er the rocks,
to her house, she quickly returned with a long coil of rope, and
instantly hurled it over the curling breakers with such a strong arm and
true aim, that one end of it struck Mr. P. in the face with a crack like
that of a giant's whip.
He grasped the rope, and that instant his boat sank like a rock!
IDA hauled away like a steam-engine, and Mr. P.'s prow (his nose, you
know,) cut through the water like a knife, in a straight line for the
shore.
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