A WARM WELCOME TO THE STORMY CAPE.
There was no time to waste.
One last glance around told Jack the necessity for prompt action, if he
wished to pull the little flotilla out of the bad hole in which they
seemed settled.
The storm was racing up from the southwest, beyond the distant
mainland. Consequently, the eastern side of the great shallow sound
would presently become a boisterous place for craft the size of theirs.
"We've got to head into it, fellows!" was his decision, as he began to
change the course of the _Tramp_ to conform with his views.
It looked like heroic treatment, but neither Herb nor George murmured.
They saw what the commodore had in mind, and that every mile they were
able to forge ahead would decrease the peril. Indeed, if they could
only manage to reach a point close in to that western shore, they would
escape the brunt of the rising waves, and only have to think of holding
their own against the wind itself.
"Full speed, _Comfort_?" called Jack, waving an encouraging hand toward
the other.
Now George found himself perplexed as to what his course should be. He
knew he could make almost twice the speed that the lumbering broad beam
boat was able to display at her best. The question was, did he dare
risk it?
True, the _Wireless_ was in more danger out on that wide stretch than
any of the others, and it seemed good policy for him to speed for
shelter. But what if one of those exasperating breakdowns, to which
the mechanism of the narrow boat seemed subject, should take place
without warning?
George shuddered as he contemplated such a possibility. He could
easily imagine his feelings upon being cast helplessly adrift in the
midst of a raging gale, with his tried and true chums hidden from his
sight by the rain and blowing spindrift.
And so his decision was quickly made. Of the two evils he chose what
seemed to be the lesser. He would stick to the fleet. Then, in case
of trouble, they could help each other like comrades.
Jack had kept an eye on the _Wireless_, for he guessed that just this
puzzling question would come up for George to solve. And when he
failed to see the speed boat shooting away, leaving the others in the
lurch, he understood that the wise skipper had decided on the better
way.
They were making fine headway, but all the same the storm was doing
likewise; and unfortunately, at the time, they happened to be quite a
few miles away from the shore that promised shelter.
"What ails George, do ye know?" questioned Jimmy, who could not
understand why the other did not make with all speed ahead, as he had
been known to do on a former occasion, considering that the best course.
"That sudden stop on the part of his engine gave him a bad feeling,"
was Jack's reply. "He doesn't trust it as he did, and is afraid that
it may repeat when he is in the midst of the storm. So he's going to
stick by us, through thick and thin."
"It does his head credit, I'm thinkin'," declared Jimmy; and then, as
he stared hard into that inky space ahead, that was gradually creeping
up toward them, he continued: "Sure now, do ye think we can make it,
Jack darlint?"
"Well, we've just got to, that's all," the other replied, firmly. "If
the wind doesn't blow us right out of the water, we'll keep on bucking
directly into it. The fight will be a tough one, Jimmy; but make up
your mind we _must_ win out. Half the battle is in confidence--that
and eternal watchfulness."
It was in this manner that Jack Stormways always impressed his chums
with some of the zeal by which his own actions were governed. That
"never-give-up" spirit had indeed carried him through lots of hotly
contested battles on the gridiron or the diamond, wresting victory many
times from apparent defeat.
So they continued to push steadily on. Jack counted every minute a
gain. He kept a close watch upon the surface of the sound, knowing
that here they must first of all discover the swoop of the gale, as its
skirmishing breath struck the water.
The last movement of air seemed to have died out, yet this was the calm
that often precedes the coming of the storm, the deadly lull that makes
the tempest seem all the more terrible when it breaks.
Jack calculated that they had been some five miles from the western
shore at the time they changed their southern course, and headed to
starboard. And as _Comfort_ could do no better than ten miles an hour,
under the most favorable conditions, it stood to reason that about half
an hour would be needed to place them in a position of safety.
"We won't get it, that's flat," he was saying to himself, as he noted
the way in which the clouds gathered for the rush.
Picking up the little megaphone which he carried, he shouted a few
sentences to the others. While the air around them remained so calm,
the thunder was booming in the quarter where that black cloud hung
suspended, so that talking was already out of the question unless one
used some such contrivance for aiding the voice.
"George, better fall in just ahead of us, where we can get a line to
you in case you have engine trouble. Two sharp blasts will tell us
that you want help. Herb, try and keep as close to me as is safe! We
must stick it out together, hear?"
Both of the other skippers waved their hands to indicate that they
understood, and doubtless George was given fresh courage to find how
calm and confident Jack seemed to face the approaching difficulty.
The land was now less than two miles away, and a faint hope had begun
to stir in Jack's heart that there might be enough delay to allow their
reaching a point of safety.
This, however, was dissipated when he suddenly discovered a white line
that looked as though a giant piece of chalk had been drawn along the
water. The squall had pounced down upon Pamlico, and was rushing
toward them at the rate of at least a mile a minute.
"Hold hard!" shouted Jack through his megaphone.
Then he devoted himself to engineering the _Tramp's_ destiny. Jimmy
knew what was expected of him in the emergency, and was nerved to
acquit himself with credit. While his skipper showed himself to be so
cool and self-possessed Jimmy could not think of allowing the spasm of
fear that passed over him to hold sway. What if that line of foamy
water was increasing in size as it rushed at them, until it assumed
dreadful proportions? The _Tramp_ had passed safely through other
storms, and with Jack at the wheel all must be serene.
So Jimmy crouched there at the motor, ready to do whatever he was
told--crouched and gaped and shivered, yet with compressed teeth was
resolved to stand by his shipmate to the end.
Then the foam-crested water struck the flotilla with a crash. First
the narrow _Wireless_ was seen to surge forward, rear up at a
frightfully perpendicular angle, until it almost seemed as though the
frail craft must be hurled completely over; and then swoop furiously
down into the basin that followed the comber.
George held her firmly in line, and somehow managed to keep her head
straight into the shrieking wind, though he frankly confessed that his
heart was in his mouth when she took that header.
But almost at the same instant the other boats tried the same frightful
plunge, and they, too, survived. Jack gave a sigh of relief when he
saw that all of them had passed through the preliminary skirmish
unharmed, for it had been that which gave him the greatest concern.
And now the work began in earnest. They had to fight for every foot
they won against the combined forces of wind and wave. Had they been a
mile or so further out in the sound, so that the seas had a better
chance to become monstrous, nothing could have saved any of them. And
Jack's chums once again had reason to be thankful for the far-seeing
qualities which their commodore developed when he changed their course,
and headed into the teeth of the coming gale.
At least several things favored them now. George's boat seemed to be
behaving wonderfully well, for one thing. Then again, after that first
swoop the gale had slackened somewhat in intensity, as is frequently
the case; though presently they could expect it to become more violent
than ever, when it caught its second wind, as Jerry expressed it.
Then, another hopeful thing was the fact that with every yard passed
over they were really getting the benefit of drawing closer to the
shore that was serving as a sort of shield from the wind.
The seas too gradually declined, since there was lacking the water
necessary to build them up.
Jack had one thing to worry over. He knew that on such occasions
considerable water would be swept from the western side of the sound,
and this was apt to send the boats aground unless luck favored them.
Such a condition would keep them from going further in any great
distance, since the risk of striking became too pronounced.
"It's all right, Jimmy!" he called to his helper, knowing how anxious
the latter must necessarily be; "we've got to a point now where we're
safe. We could even drop our mudhooks over right here, and ride it
out, if we wanted. But it's better to go on a little further."
"Whoo! wasn't the same a scorcher, though?" Jimmy shouted, a sickly
grin coming over his good-natured, freckled face.
"It was some wind, I'm thinking," Jack admitted. "I wasn't a bit
afraid about the _Tramp_ or the _Comfort_, but there's no telling what
that trick boat, _Wireless_, will do, when you don't expect it. But
everything is lovely, and the goose hangs high."
"Sure it will, if ever ye get a sight on one with that bully little
gun; and it was poor hungry Nick I heard sayin', by the same token,
that he liked roast goose better than anything in the woide worrld
except oysters!"
Ten minutes later and Jack blew a blast upon his conch shell horn that
told the others they were to come to anchor. Whereupon there was more
or less hustling, as the crews got busy.
Presently the three little motor boats rode buoyantly to their anchors,
bobbing up and down on the rolling waves like ducks bowing to each
other. And as they had made out to select positions within the safety
zone of each other, it was possible for those aboard to hold
conversations, if they but chose to elevate their voices more or less,
in order to be heard above the shrieking wind and dashing waves.