CAUGHT IN A SQUALL
“Who is it?” asked Jerry.
“Seems to be some one in another motor boat,” Bob replied. “He’s waving
at us.”
“Maybe he wants a race,” suggested Ned.
“Well, he can have it if he catches up to us,” Jerry responded. “I’m
not going to race otherwise. The _Dartaway_ is not in her best trim,
and she may get beaten. Then we’ll get the name of having a slow boat.
We’ll have a regular race later, when we are in better shape,” and he
put on a little more speed.
Still from behind came the cry over the water:
“Come back! Come back!”
“Oh, cut it out!” exclaimed Bob as he felt the salt wind and spray in
his face. “We can’t bother with you. We’re out for a good time. Catch
us if you can!”
“Isn’t this glorious!” exclaimed Ned. “Say, but I’m glad we came!”
The _Dartaway_ had increased her speed considerably and was fairly
flying through the water. The boys could no longer hear the hailing of
the lone man in the boat behind, though they could still see him coming
after them.
“Guess if he wants a race he’ll feel sort of discouraged,” Jerry
remarked, as he put the wheel over a bit to meet an oncoming wave.
“Funny sort of a chap,” said Bob. “Thinks we ought to stop for him, I
s’pose.”
The craft was now approaching one of the two points of land which
enclosed the cove of Harmon Beach. The wind, which had been blowing
quite strongly, increased in volume and the water became a little
rougher. Still there had been just as much disturbance on Lake Cantoga,
where the boys had cut their eye teeth in running a boat, and they were
not alarmed.
It was getting dusk now, and, off to the east there was a curious haze
hanging over the water. Jerry, who was peering sharply ahead, remarked:
“Looks like breakers beyond,” for he had caught sight of some white
caps.
“We don’t mind them,” said Ned. “I guess our boat is strong enough to
navigate through ’em.”
“Our friend seems to have given up trying to catch us,” Bob said.
“He never had a chance,” came from Ned.
“Hold hard!” Jerry suddenly cried. “Look out!”
An instant later a shower of spray flew over the boat, wetting the boys.
“Hurrah! It’s salt water!” yelled Ned.
“Old Briny!” cried Bob.
“Of course it is,” spoke Jerry, as he wiped the water from his eyes.
“We’re right out on the ocean now.”
“Really?” asked Ned, hardly able to believe it.
“Sure,” Jerry added. “We’ve gotten beyond the point of the cove and
it’s open water ahead of us now. Europe lies just beyond. Shall we put
for it?”
Another dash of spray caused the boys to duck.
“Not to-night,” came from Bob. “There’s nothing on board to eat.”
“You’d think of that if you were headed straight for Davy Jones’s
locker,” exclaimed Ned. “Why can’t you forget it, Chunky?”
“This sea air gives me such an appetite,” replied the stout youth.
“Well, we haven’t anything on board to--” began Ned, when his remarks
were suddenly interrupted by a roll of the boat that nearly threw him
over the side.
“Look out!” cried Jerry. “Here comes a big wave!”
Almost as he spoke there was a rush of greenish-white water and
something more substantial than spray came aboard the _Dartaway_.
At the same instant there was an increase in the force of the wind,
which fairly howled overhead, and sent the spume from the crests of the
waves with stinging force into the faces of the boys.
“What is it?” panted Bob, as he tried to get his breath, after
swallowing a mouthful of salt water.
“We seem to have gotten out to sea in a hurry,” replied Jerry.
“It’s beginning to rain!” yelled Ned.
Then everything seemed blotted out by a gray blanket of mist, caused by
the drenching downpour. The boys were wet through in an instant, though
they tried to cover themselves with some pieces of canvas.
In their hurry to get the boat into the water they had not set the
awning. In fact the craft was not at all equipped for a trip, beyond
the fact that she could go, since there was plenty of gasolene in the
tank.
The _Dartaway_ was rocking and bobbing about on the rough water, for,
once beyond the protection of the cove, the full force of the waves
and wind was felt.
“Turn around, Jerry!” yelled Bob.
“Yes! Put back!” cried Ned.
“Too risky!” sung out Jerry. “I’ve got to keep her head into the wind,”
and he swung the wheel around to meet a big wave.
The crested roller of green water struck the boat half broadside on.
Considerable came aboard, but the _Dartaway_, after staggering a bit
under the weight, rose to it like a duck, and went on. Jerry started
the automatic pump and the water was soon forced out.
“Say, we are in for it!” Bob yelled.
“It’s nothing but a squall!” Jerry called back. He did not have time to
turn around, because he had to devote all his attention to the wheel.
“What are you going to do?” asked Ned, shouting the words out. Indeed
nothing less than a yell could have been heard above the roar of the
wind, the swish of the rain and the splash of the water as it struck
the side of the little craft.
“Going to keep on,” replied Jerry grimly. “It’s all I can do. If I turn
back I’ll be swamped. Maybe I can run into a quiet cove, somewhere
along the beach.”
The squall was now raging in all its sudden, but short-lasting fury.
Though the boys realized it would not keep up its capers very long,
they knew that their position was anything but a safe one. It was
nearly dusk, with the dying light of sunset hidden by the mist and
clouds.
Still, as Jerry had said, there was nothing to do but keep on. By doing
so the bow of the boat could be held so as to cleave the waves. To turn
meant to get them broadside on and this would soon swamp the craft.
“Isn’t there some place we can put in to?” yelled Ned.
“Don’t know of any,” Jerry called back.
Down came the rain, harder than before, and the wind seemed to howl in
glee at the plight of the boys. The craft was tossing to and fro on the
waves, which, while not of any extraordinary size, were almost too big
for the _Dartaway_. They would have amounted to nothing for a larger
boat, with more freeboard than had the motor craft.
Ned and Bob crouched in the bottom of the boat, to render it more
steady, while Jerry clung to the wheel, which now and then was almost
jerked from his hand by the force of the water on the rudder.
Every now and then the salt spray would dash over the craft, adding its
saline dampness to that caused by the rain. It was now quite dark,
with the rain making it all the more difficult to see. Jerry tried to
pierce the gloom, for he had no more idea where he was going than a
blind man. He knew he had started to pass out of the harbor of Harmon
Beach, between the two points of land, and that he was steering east
then. But, whether he had kept the boat headed in that direction was a
question he could not answer.
In spite of it all the _Dartaway_ was behaving admirably. She stood up
to the attack of the waves and wind like a veteran. It was her baptism
of the Atlantic, and she seemed to rejoice in it.
“Hark! I hear something!” cried Ned.
The boys listened as well as they could above the throbbing of the
engine. Over the storm-swept waters there sounded three long whistles.
“It’s a boat!” cried Bob. “Look out, or she’ll run us down!”
“Can’t tell where she is,” Jerry answered, his hand on the lever to
stop the engine in an instant.
“It’s behind us,” Ned shouted, standing up and trying to see to the
rear.
Once more the whistle sounded. This time it was clearer, and in spite
of the roar of the wind and the swish of the waves the boys could hear
the throb of a boat engine.
“Some one is coming after us!” exclaimed Bob.
Just then, through the mist of the storm there shone a great light,
full on the _Dartaway_. It flashed a glaring beacon on the boat, and
then suddenly it turned red, flashed twice, and disappeared.