The girls uttered a shriek of dismay, all except Katherine, who exclaimed in comical amazement, "What do you know about that?"
"I thought I had them tied fast," said the Captain ruefully. "What in the name of goodness are we going to do now?"
"Don't ask me," said the Monkey, gazing in a fascinated way at the swiftly fleeing boats. There was a strong current among the islands up here which was sweeping the runaways very fast toward the channel.
"Desoited!" cried Katherine, wringing her hands and rolling her eyes. "Left to perish miserably in the middle of the sea! Now, Count Flamingo, you have your revenge!"
"Just the same," said Gladys when she had finished laughing at Katherine's absurd heroics, "we're in a fine pickle. Just how are we going to get out of here?"
"Let's see," said Katherine, puckering her brow. "What do people usually do on such occasions? We've been in 'fine pickles' before, and we've always gotten out of them. Isn't the proper thing to do when you're locked up in a lonely tower to sing siren-like music until the noble hero hears you and comes to the rescue? Do you suppose my secret lover would ever mistake my sweet voice for anyone else's, once he heard it wafted in on the breeze?"
"Oh, stop your nonsense, Katherine," said Gladys. "You make me laugh so I can't think of a thing to do. Captain, how are we going to attract people's attention?"
"Run up a distress signal, I suppose," replied the Captain, "if we have anything to run up."
"Well, there's one thing about it," declared Katherine flatly, "I refuse to be the distress signal this time. Every time we've had to have one in the past my belongings have been sacrificed."
"Don't get worried, injured one," said Gladys soothingly. "We can wave the two towels I brought along."
"Just the thing!" said Katherine. "We can wave them when the steamer goes by and they'll send a lifeboat for us. How romantic! She's just coming into the channel now. Everybody get ready to call."
The big _Huronic_, the magnificent white steamer that stopped at St. Pierre once a week on her way down to Chicago, swung into sight around a long point of land.
"Now wave!" commanded Katherine, when the _Huronic_ was almost opposite them, and the towels fluttered frantically over the edge of the little balcony. Dozens of handkerchiefs were waved in answer from the deck of the big liner. "They think we're just waving at them for fun," said Katherine, when nothing took place that looked like an effort at rescue.