THE MEN IN THE BOAT
"Oh! Oh!" screamed Grace. "We'll be drowned!"
"Nonsense! Keep quiet!" commanded Will, with the authority only a
brother could have displayed on such an occasion. His stern voice had
the desired effect and Grace ceased clinging to her chums with a grip
that really endangered them.
"Oh, I'm so sorry I was silly!" she exclaimed contritely, as the big
wave passed harmlessly under the sailboat. Then the craft swung behind a
projecting point of land and they were in calmer waters. Allen had let
the sail come down on the run, and all danger of capsizing was over. The
wind still blew in fitful gusts, however, and the rain, which had been
holding off, came down in a drenching shower.
"Get out the mackintoshes!" cried Roy, for those garments had been
brought with them at the suggestion of Old Tin-Back.
Protected now against the downpour, and in calmer waters, the young
people were themselves once more. The jib gave way enough to the craft
for Allen to head it toward a little dock which seemed to be the landing
place of the neighborhood fishermen.
"What are you going to do?" asked Will. "Stay here until the storm is
over?"
"Might as well," Allen answered. "And yet--hello! What's that?" he
interrupted himself suddenly, pointing out to the bay.
"A motor boat broken loose from its mooring," answered Roy.
"And if it isn't the _Pocohontas_ I miss my guess!" added Amy's brother.
"That's right!" declared Allen. "John's repair shop is in this cove. He
must have anchored her out, and the storm tore her loose. He evidently
doesn't know it."
"Well, we know it!" cried Will, "and she'll be on those rocks in a few
minutes more. See! She's drifting right toward them!"
It needed but a glance to disclose this. The drifting motor boat, under
the influence of wind and waves, was heading straight toward some
half-submerged but sharp rocks that were a danger-point in the little
cove.
"What's to be done?" demanded Roy.
"You must save your boat, that's certain!" put in Betty, thus
sustaining her reputation as a Little Captain.
"We've got to," said Will. "But to take you girls out there again----"
"Don't you dare do it, in this storm!" broke in Grace, for the wind and
rain had now reached their height.
"Can't you land us?" asked Betty, taking in the situation at a glance.
"That will be best. Put us on shore and then this boat will be so much
easier to handle. The wind is right, and you can get the _Pocohontas_
before she goes on the rocks."
"She's got the idea," declared Allen, admiringly. "We can save our boat,
if we hustle."
"Then--'hustle'!" cried Betty, with a little blush, as she shook her
head to rid her flashing eyes of raindrops. "Put us ashore at the dock,
and save the _Pocohontas_."
"But what will you do?" asked Allen. "I don't like to leave you on the
beach alone."
"We four girls won't be lonesome," declared Mollie. "It isn't the first
time we've roughed it. Besides, there is some sort of a fisherman's
shanty there. We'll go inside, if the storm gets too bad. But I think it
is going to clear."
Indeed there were indications that the weather at least was going to get
no worse. There was a hasty conference among the boys, who cast anxious
eyes toward their drifting boat. Then the sailing craft was worked up to
the little dock, and the girls sprang out.
"We'll come back for you," promised Will.
"If you can't it will be all right," Betty assured him. "We can walk
back along the beach after the storm. It isn't more than a mile or two,
and we haven't done very much walking lately."
"Well, we'll see what happens," spoke Allen, anxious to get out to the
_Pocohontas_, which was dangerously near the rocks.
The girls paused on the dock a moment, to watch the boys beating back
out over the bay, and then turned to go up the beach. They had never
been on this part of the coast before. It was lonesome and deserted,
save for one rather shabby hut just above high-water mark. Over beyond
some distant sand dunes, the boys had been told, was the establishment
of the boat-builder, where they had taken their craft to have a new
magneto put in.
"Shall we go in and ask for shelter?" asked Amy, as they neared the hut.
"Well, it's raining pretty hard," returned Grace.
"Oh, don't let's go in!" said Betty, suddenly, as she looked at a
window of the hut. "It's much nicer outside."
"But it's raining so!" protested Mollie, with a quick look at her chum.
"I know. But we're neither sugar nor salt, and this isn't the first rain
we've been out in. Besides, I'm sure, in there, it will smell of--fish!
I can't bear to be shut up in a stuffy cabin that smells of fish. I vote
we stay out. See, it is beginning to clear already," and she pointed to
a streak of light in the west.
"Is that your real reason--a dislike of the smell of--fish?" asked
Mollie, in a low voice, that Betty alone could hear.
"Not exactly, no," was the reply, equally guarded. "I happened to catch
a glimpse of some faces at the window of that hut, and I did not like
the look of them--they were--ugh! I don't know what to say," and Betty
gave a slight shiver that was not caused entirely by the chilling rain.
"I saw them, too," spoke Mollie, in louder tones now, for Grace and Amy
had walked on ahead. "And one of them was--a woman's face."
"Yes, but such a face!" agreed Betty. "It was hard--cruel--oh, I'll
never go in that hut."
"Nor will I. The rain is stopping, I think."
"Then let's walk back to Ocean View," proposed Betty. "What do you say,
girls?" she called to Amy and Grace. "Shall we walk back? It's stopping,
and the sand will be firm and hard after the rain."
"I don't mind," spoke Amy, always willing to be accommodating.
"Oh, well, I suppose we'll have to, if the boys don't come for us,"
assented Grace.
"They won't be back for some time," declared Betty. "See, they have just
reached the boat, and in time, too, I think. A little later she would
have been on the rocks."
Allen and his chums had indeed been fortunate in saving the
_Pocohontas_. Through the clearing air the girls watched them preparing
to tow the motor craft back.
"It will be some time before they can come for us," repeated Betty. "We
might as well go on."
"But they won't know where we are," objected Grace, who did not
altogether relish the idea of walking. She was wearing shoes with very
high heels.
"They'll understand," responded Betty. "See, they are looking this way.
I'll give them some sign language they'll understand," and she began
waving her arms, and pointing in the direction of Ocean View, down the
coast.
"Who in the world will understand that?" demanded Mollie.
"Allen will," answered Betty.
"Oh!" exclaimed Mollie with a laugh. "Then this isn't the first time you
have talked with him in sign language."
"Silly!" protested Betty. "Come on, girls," and she strode off down the
wet sands. The rain had almost stopped.
"This is better than waiting back in that hut," observed Mollie, walking
beside the Little Captain.
"I should say so!" exclaimed Betty. "Oh, those horrid faces."
"Just like smugglers!" declared Mollie.
"What's that about smugglers?" demanded Grace, quickly, turning around.
She was in advance with Amy.
"Oh--nothing," spoke Betty, and Grace resumed her talk with her other
chum.
The girls walked along the beach. Now a turn of the coast hid the boys
from sight, and their work of towing back the drifting motor boat.
"Oh, it's farther than I thought!" sighed Grace, as the atmosphere
became clearer, and, some distance down the coast they could see the
little village of Ocean View.
"Oh, it isn't far at all!" declared Betty. "We haven't done enough
walking lately, that's the reason. We'll soon be there."
As the girls made a turn around some high sand dunes they heard the
staccato puffing of a motor boat.
"Can that be the boys?" asked Mollie, quickly.
"Of course not! They are away behind us," declared Betty, "and that
sound came from in front. See, there it is--a motor boat," and she
pointed to one just leaving the shore of a little cove.
Several men had evidently just leaped into the craft which, because of
the shallow water, had to be shoved some distance out.
Then a strange thing happened. The men appeared to be surprised at the
sight of the girls--an unexpected sight, it would appear--for some of
them seemed anxious to put back, while others were urgent for keeping on
out into the bay.
"That's queer!" commented Betty.
"What?" asked Amy.
"Those men seem anxious to come back; at least, some of them do, and
others don't," went on Betty. "Look, they seem to be quarreling among
themselves!"