ADRIFT IN THE STORM
“I guess it wouldn’t be a bad plan to eat, and then point for home,”
Sam observed. “Have we got any grub aboard?”
“Plenty, trust Chunky for that,” came from Ned. “Set it out, Bob.”
Bob went to the locker where the food was kept. As he opened it he gave
a start.
“What’s the matter?” asked Jerry.
“There’s not much left,” the fleshy youth replied. “I forgot to fill
up the lockers last night, and we’ve been having several picnics this
week.”
“I guess there’s enough until we get home to supper,” Ned put in,
taking a look. “Of course there is, Chunky. You must be especially
hungry.”
“I am,” sighed the fat lad. “But I’ll have to stand it, I suppose.”
There was just enough food and water for one meal, but no one worried.
They were only seven miles from shore, and there was a number of boats
around them.
They ate their meal leisurely, and, when they had finished there was a
can of sardines and a few crackers left.
“Hello! Where are all the other boats?” exclaimed Jerry as he looked
about. None was in sight.
The sea was deserted, besides their own craft, only the forward part of
the wreck was to be seen. The waves were still covered with floating
debris.
“I guess it’s time we scooted,” remarked the sailor. “The storm’s going
to break sooner than I expected. The glass is falling rapidly. Put for
shore, boys.”
Jerry went forward to start the engine, which had been stopped. He
turned the gasolene and spark levers, and Bob threw over the wheel.
There was no answering explosion.
“Once more,” Jerry said.
Again Bob turned. The wheel spun around under his efforts, but there
was no chug-chug.
“Queer,” muttered Jerry. “What’s the trouble? She never acts like this
unless something’s the matter. Ned, see if we have plenty of gasolene.”
Ned sounded the tank in the bow.
“Well?” inquired Jerry, as Ned seemed to be at the operation longer
than was necessary.
“There isn’t any.”
“Isn’t any?”
“Not a drop! See!” and he held up the sounding stick. It was as dry as
a bone, only the odor of the fluid clinging to it.
“Why, it was full when we started! How could it get out?”
“Well, it _is_ out,” Ned replied.
Jerry made an examination. As much of the tank as he could see did not
appear to be damaged. He was at a loss to account for the disappearance
of the gasolene. He looked over the side and uttered an exclamation.
“There’s what did it!”
“What?” asked Bob.
Jerry pointed to a small iron rod which had pierced the bow of the
_Dartaway_ from the outside. It had penetrated through the galvanized
iron gasolene tank, and the fluid had run out into the ocean. There was
enough space around the iron, which was still in place, to allow the
fluid to get out, but, as the rod had entered in an upward, slanting
direction the hole did not admit any sea water, so the boat did not
leak.
“How in the world did that get there?” asked Jerry, as he gradually
worked the rod out.
“Must have stuck into us when we were at the wreck,” put in Sam.
“That’s just how it happened. Good thing it was no bigger.”
“Lucky the gasolene didn’t all leak out until we got away from being
sucked down in the whirlpool,” remarked Ned. “The rocking of the boat
helped it run out.”
“Well, what are you going to do?” inquired Jerry.
“Hoist some sort of a signal,” advised Ned. “Otherwise we’ll be here
all night.”
“All night!” exclaimed Bob. “And no grub! Oh, it makes me hungry to
think of it!”
“Chunky, I would think for once you might let up on your everlasting
appetite,” came from Jerry a little sternly. “We are just as badly off
as you are.”
“I can’t help it, Jerry. Just think of it, only one can of sardines
among four of us! Let’s see, there are ten sardines in a can, that’s
two and a half each! Why, I’ve often eaten two whole boxes myself.”
“You’ll be lucky if you ever eat again, sonny,” said Sam, with an
anxious look at the sky.
“Are we in any danger?”
“Well, of course we may come out all right, but shiver my timbers, I
don’t like the looks of that bank of clouds over in the east. It’s
coming on to blow, or I’m mistaken, and that’s something which doesn’t
often happen to Salt Water Sam.”
“What had we better do?” asked Jerry.
“It might be a good plan to hoist a signal. After that we can get
things ship-shape, and wait. That’s all.”
The _Dartaway’s_ flag, upside down, a signal of distress, was fastened
to a boat-hook, that being the tallest pole they had, and fastened in
the bow. Then, under Sam’s direction they fastened the awning well
down, and, with a bit of tarpaulin rigged up a small sail, by means of
some boat-hooks.
“We’ll need steerage way,” said the sailor, “and we haven’t a drag this
time.”
“Had we better throw overboard some of this cargo?” asked Ned.
“No, it’s not heavy enough to do any harm, and it will make the boat a
little steadier,” said the sailor.
It was getting quite hazy by this time, and there was a curious calm to
the air, as though the storm was just waiting for the word to break in
all its fury. The water had a strange oily look, and the waves rolled
without the least bit of foam flying from their crests.
The _Dartaway_ was the only craft in sight, save where a dull blot
showed that part of the wreck still clung to the rocks that had broken
her back. The other boats had long ago scudded for shelter. The shore
could not be discerned, and even the lighthouse, which was usually
visible for a long distance, was wiped out.
There was nothing more to be done. Anxiously the boys scanned the ocean
for a sight of some craft that might tow them in. They had no means of
moving, as there was no wind, as yet, and they had some time ago gotten
into the habit of leaving out a pair of oars with which most motor
boats are provided to use in case of emergency. They had seldom needed
them, and they would have been of small service, anyway, as the craft
was too heavy to be propelled in that fashion at sea.
“Well, we’re as ready for it as we’ll ever be,” remarked Sam, when he
had seen for a second time to all the fastenings. “Let her come and get
it over with.”
“Do you think we’d better eat now, or--or afterward?” came from Bob.
“Chunky, if you mention grub again until we’re safe ashore I’ll throw
you overboard!” cried Jerry. He had seldom spoken so sharply, and it
told of the strain he was under.
“There now,” came soothingly from Sam. “Don’t worry. If worst comes
to worst we can live for several days on ten sardines. I was on a raft
once, afloat ten days, and all I had was a pair of boots, and one shoe
lace. That was hard lines! And we might eat the cat!”
“Never!” cried the boys.
An hour or more passed, with the _Dartaway_ drifting aimlessly on
the ocean, which was beginning to heave as if from the influence of
some hidden power. It grew much darker, though it was only about five
o’clock.
“Do you s’pose the life-savers will see us?” asked Ned. “They have a
station near here, where they came out from to rescue those from the
wreck.”
“No chance of them seeing us this far out,” said Sam. “They could see
where the wreck was in the mist, as it sent up signal lights. But we
haven’t any.”
“I’ll always carry them after this,” spoke Jerry.
The inverted pennant of the boat fluttered a little in the breeze. The
haze seemed to grow thicker. The sailor stood up and looked on all
sides. Then he tightened the ropes holding the improvised sail, and
made it smaller in area, not by reefing it, for there was no way of
doing that, but by setting it lower on the rigged “jury” mast. He also
took down the ensign.
“No need of losing that,” he said, “and it’s sure to go when the blow
comes. It can’t be seen a quarter of a mile away now.”
Now, over the waters, came a strange, weird sound, as though some one
had blown on a big conch shell, miles away. It grew in volume until it
filled all the air. The boys looked about in wonder.
“It’s the wind! Here comes the storm!” cried Sam.
An instant later the blast came. It flattened down the heaving waves
for a few seconds, and then blew off their tops in a spray of foam.
The motor boat heeled over, as though it would capsize. Then the small
sail filled out. All at once the wind seemed to die away. But, a few
seconds later it came with increased fury.
“It’s shifted!” cried Sam. “We’re being blown out to sea!”
The _Dartaway_ spun around like a top, and scudded through the waves.