I expect I fainted, for when I looked at Kathleen again she was bathing my face and hands with sea water, and the shores were ever so much farther off than they had been.  
"Oh, Edric, what shall we do? What will uncle and aunt say? Are you better now? What is the time, Rupert?"
 
"Half-past four," said Rupert. "The tide runs out six hours, so we can't be back any way before midnight."
 
"Then I vote we have something to eat," said Jack, as usual the first to recover himself. "I say, Rupert, is it any good fagging away with that oar to keep her in the middle of the stream? Don't you think we might as well let her run aground?"
 
Rupert was standing in the bows, guiding the boat as they do the gondolas in Venice, and looked tired and anxious.
 
"I think we ought to go on," he said, quietly. "Edric has never been on the water but once, and I want to get him home. If we get stranded we are bound to stay till the tide comes up and floats us, and then there's a doubt whether we can get this heavy tub home with one oar. I think our best chance is to go down with the stream, till we get into the bay. Perhaps a boat will pass, and take us round to Craigstown."
 
"We could easily drive home from there at low water," said I, trying to speak cheerily, though I felt fearful. What a different party we were then, as the boat went swiftly down the river, widening and widening every moment.
 
"Now, captain, your eyes are good, whatever your legs and arms may be. Just keep a sharp look out, and shout 'Ship, ahoy!' the instant you see anything."
 
"What's that?" cried Harold, suddenly. "I heard a bell. I say, isn't it getting rough; don't pitch me overboard, please. You'd better sit down, Rupert, or you'll take a header. There's no one here to fish you out, and there isn't a towel on board. Stewardess, you'll please to take a month's notice for forgetting them."
 
With such little jokes we tried to hide the fear which sat heavily on every heart.
 
"There it is again," said Kathleen, looking eagerly around. "It sounds like a bell."
 
I raised myself on my elbow. "It must be the bell buoy," I exclaimed. "I have heard father talk about it. It is a great big buoy, painted red and white. There's a bell on the top, and four hammers which swing up against it with the waves."
 
"Is there danger there?" said Rupert, standing up again, and grasping his oar.
 
"Not for us, I think. I almost forget; but I think father said it was put to show the steamers their course when they are up the Chiswell to Barford."
 
"What! is there another river up there? No wonder we have such a tossing. There's the bell again—we must be getting nearer to it. There it is. Ship, ahoy! Why didn't you shout, captain?"
 
We were making straight for the bell buoy, but I saw that we were also making straight for the open sea. In an instant a prayer came to my lips, and I said aloud: "Oh, God, show us what we ought to do."
 
Like a direct answer from Heaven, which we all believed it was, Kathleen said, "Tie the boat to the buoy, Rupert."
 
In the excitement, eager to help, eager to see, I raised myself to my knees, and then dropped back; I had never done so much in my life before.
 
It was a terrible moment of suspense, and then Rupert almost fell into Kathleen's arms.
 
"Bravo!" she cried; "you've done it, darling."
 
He had tied the painter skilfully round the iron frame which supported the bell.
 
"Yes, it's done, dear; the question is, how long will the rope last. It isn't like being moored to a tree at the side of a river. Oh! I'm tired, I must rest a moment; you two look out, and signal if you see any vessel."
 
As he spoke he kicked something.
 
"What a set of idiots we are," said Jack, crawling carefully along the bottom of the boat, which was pitching in a manner fearful to describe.
 
"Here's the gun; let's fire it till someone sees us."
 
A bang, a flash, a sharp pain in my hand, and a cry of misery. Shall I ever forget those few minutes? I didn't know where I was hurt at first; but the marvel was we were not all turned into the sea as my cousins rushed to me. If our boat had not been, as Jack said, a regular old tub, you would never have read this tale, for I should never have written it.
 
The bullet had just grazed my left hand and carried away my little finger. Of course, I have missed it very often since, and groaned over the pain then; but if I had to go through that afternoon's experience again, I would certainly still let that bullet work its mischief. Care for me, staunching the blood, and tearing handkerchiefs into strips to stop the circulation at the wrist, which idea I had gathered from various books of war and bloodshed, all took time and distracted our thoughts for a while from the danger which threatened us all.
 
"I see a boat!" said Harold, with a gasp of joy.
 
"Give me the gun, quick," cried Rupert. "Don't be frightened, Edric; I won't hurt you. It is our only hope." Bang, bang, bang—three shots in the air as quickly as possible.
 
 "DON'T BE FRIGHTENED, EDRIC.  IT IS OUR ONLY HOPE." 
"DON'T BE FRIGHTENED, EDRIC. IT IS OUR ONLY HOPE."
"She sees us, she's turning this way," we cried, with voices in which tears and joy struggled for the mastery.
 
But we were not yet out of danger. Even as we uttered that cry, we gave another.
 
"Look! the rope is broken. We are adrift!"