Stranded
Three days elapsed during which Brad, Dan and the other Cubs spent much
time at the “Y” and at the river practicing for the final swimming meet
of the year with Den 1.
Annoyed by the manner in which they had been treated by Paper Bag Eddie
and his friend “Frisk,” the two Cubs interested themselves in making a
few inquiries along the waterfront.
They learned that a sailor by the last name of Fagan frequently was seen
with Eddie. Although known to have no employment, he was reported always
with enough money in his pocket.
“I’m as sure as anything Fagan was in the motorboat that struck us,” Dan
repeated to Brad one afternoon when the two boys were at the river
preparing for a swim. “I suspect that was why he acted so sore in the
cafe. He was afraid we’d accuse him.”
Since their meeting with Paper Bag Eddie and the sailor, the two Cubs had
not seen either of them again. Nor had they glimpsed Mr. Manheim’s boat
or any that resembled it.
On this particular afternoon, Mr. Holloway had promised to take Brad, Dan
and Midge for a sail. Four o’clock, the hour appointed for their meeting
at the Yacht Club dock, came and went. Finally, Mr. Holloway telephoned
from his office to say that he had been held up and would be unable to
make the excursion.
“There’s no reason why you boys can’t take the boat by yourselves,” he
urged. “You’re both experienced at handling the tiller, and good
swimmers. Go ahead! Only don’t go too far from the Yacht Club. A storm
could kick up before dusk.”
Fortifying themselves with bottles of pop, Dan and Brad hoisted sail and
cast off. With Brad at the tiller, they sailed down the channel, past
Fish Island, and on toward Skeleton Island. They had been anxious to
explore this island for some time.
Dan lounged in the bottom of the boat, lazily sipping his drink.
“Let’s sail all the way around Skeleton Island,” he proposed. “Okay?”
“Sure, if we have time,” Brad agreed, glancing at the darkening sky.
“Those clouds are rolling up rather fast though. We might have rain in a
couple of hours.”
“We’ll make it back before then,” Dan replied, stretching luxuriously.
“The breeze is just right now.”
In a long tack, they crossed to the far shore of the river and came
about, pointing toward Skeleton Island.
As Dan dropped an empty pop bottle overboard, he noticed a mahogany
motorboat almost directly opposite the island.
The craft had pulled up along shore, its motor idle. The boy was unable
to see the occupants or to obtain a clear view of the boat itself, for it
lay half-hidden in a clump of bushes.
“That boat looks a little like Mr. Manheim’s,” he remarked, calling
Brad’s attention to it. “Wonder what it’s doing over there? No one
appears to be fishing.”
Holding the sailboat to its course, the two Cubs kept watch of the idle
motorboat. Though they were too far away to be certain the craft was Mr.
Manheim’s, they thought it bore a marked resemblance to the craft
operated by Wilson Jabowski.
Presently, as the boys watched, they saw someone aboard the motorboat
lower and raise a red flag three times in succession.
“What’s the idea of that?” Dan demanded, all attention. “They’re
signaling!”
“To someone on Skeleton Island,” Brad added quietly.
Dan turned his gaze toward the island beach. A man stood there,
apparently focusing his attention upon the motorboat. In answer to the
signal, he raised and lowered his arm three times.
“What goes?” Brad muttered.
For awhile, the Cubs witnessed nothing more of interest. The man on the
beach vanished from their range of vision, while the motorboat remained
in the clump of bushes.
“Guess there’s nothing more to see,” Dan remarked in disappointment.
“Yes, there is!” Brad corrected, bringing the sailboat closer into the
wind. “Listen!”
The two boys distinctly could hear the putt-putt-putt of a gasoline
engine. For a minute they could not localize the sound. Then, from the
far shoulder of the island, they saw a flat gasoline-propelled raft
scooting across the river.
“That looks like Jabowski,” Dan observed. “And he’s heading straight
toward the motorboat! Can we get closer, Brad?”
“Unless the breeze shifts it will take us two or three tacks to come even
with the island.”
“And by that time, there may be nothing to see,” Dan grumbled. “I sure
wish we had a pair of binoculars!”
Dividing their attention between pressing more speed out of their own
craft, and watching the raft, the boys begrudged the time it took to make
the long tack.
The raft, they noted, moved directly to the waiting motorboat. What
transpired at the meeting place, they were unable to see.
So intent were the Cubs on watching the boat and raft, that they paid
scant heed to the low cumulus clouds which had gathered close to the
horizon.
Black underneath and hard-edged, they were moving up fast from the
leeward!
The Cubs, however, were elated because a stiffening breeze rapidly bore
them toward Skeleton Island. Now they could discern two men aboard the
motorboat. Though they could not see the face of the man on the raft,
they were convinced he was Jabowski.
“What do you figure they’re doing?” Dan speculated. “And who are those
men that have Mr. Manheim’s speedboat?”
“Maybe it isn’t his,” Brad replied. “I’d say it’s the same length and
make though.”
Apparently observing the approach of the sailboat, the raft began to pull
away from the motor craft.
At that same moment, a dead calm fell upon the river. Startled, Brad
raised his eye to the sail which had been drawing well. Now it had
slumped into listless, discouraged folds.
“Just our luck!” Dan muttered in disgust. “The breeze plays out!”
“It’s worse than that,” Brad said, thoroughly alarmed. “We’re in the calm
that precedes a bad thunderstorm!”
Both the sky and the water had taken on a dark cast. Although not a
breath of air stirred, heavy waves pounded against the drifting boat.
“Gosh, we’re a long ways from shore too!” Dan said in dismay. “Skeleton
Island is the closest point of land. Think we can make it before the
storm breaks?”
“Not a chance,” Brad muttered. “She’s coming now!”
Across the water they could see a misty sheet of water descending.
“There will be wind in a minute! Plenty of it! Dan! Help me get the sail
down before it strikes us.”
Working with all speed, the boys lowered the sail from the mast. Before
they could furl it, the wind struck, throwing the boat far over on its
side.
Dan’s Cub cap was lifted from his head, and carried far down river. For a
moment it floated on the surface, and then slowly sank out of sight.
Dan scrambled to fasten down all other loose objects. Rain now was coming
down in a torrent. Unable to see many feet ahead of them, the boys lost
sight of the raft and the motorboat. For a time they could hear the
chug-chug of the raft’s engine, and then all sound except the howl of the
wind died away.
“This is awful!” Dan exclaimed as a vivid streak of lightning cut across
the dark sky. “Let’s strike for Skeleton Island. We can find shelter
there, at least.”
He reached for the paddle. Already the strong wind was propelling the
boat in the general direction of the island.
At the tiller, Brad guided the craft more by instinct than sight. Wind
and rain had blotted out all view of the shore.
Finally, the shadowy island loomed up. Worn out from hard paddling, Dan
put on a last burst of energy which drove the boat onto the sandy beach.
Leaping out, he and Brad pulled the craft high up on the sand beyond
reach of the waves. Then they raced for the shelter of a heavily wooded
section some distance back from the beach.
“Jabowski lives in the caretaker’s quarters at the other end of the
island,” Brad remarked, huddling against the trunk of a sheltering oak.
“We might go there.”
“I’d rather wait here, Brad. This storm shouldn’t last long. Then we can
hoist canvas and sail back to the clubhouse.”
Already the rain had slackened. The Cubs waited twenty minutes under the
trees. By that time the downpour had dwindled to a drizzle. Then they
made their way back through the dripping bushes to the beach.
“Hey! Where’s our boat?” Dan demanded, stopping short.
The stretch of beach where the craft had been left less than thirty
minutes before, now was deserted.
“But the boat can’t be gone!” Brad exclaimed, refusing to believe his
eyes. “We pulled it well up on the sand before we took shelter! The waves
weren’t high enough to have washed it away!”
“Well, it’s gone all right. And there it is, Brad.”
Dan pointed two hundred yards from shore where the empty sailboat drifted
aimlessly. Slowly the craft was being carried downstream by the current.
The Cubs stared at it in stunned dismay. Without the sailboat, they were
stranded on Skeleton Island!