NODDY’S COMPANION
Now the storm had broken in all its power. How the wind whistled over
the boat, almost tearing the awning loose! But Sam had seen to the
fastenings, and the old sailor well knew the awful force of a gale. The
sail, too, held, though it needed all the strength of the ropes Sam had
carefully placed here and there to brace it.
“Take the wheel!” roared Sam to Jerry. “I’ll look after things here!”
Making his way as best he could along the rolling and pitching boat,
Jerry grasped the steering apparatus. It was all he could do to hold
the helm, so violently was the rudder twisted from side to side.
Well for those aboard the _Dartaway_ that she was a stanch craft,
well that she had been built with a view to hard service. For now her
stoutness was called upon, and now was her stability likely to be
tested to the utmost.
Once the first fury of the blast was over the boys did not seem to
mind it so much. It did not appear to blow so hard when they were
scudding along with the wind. The sea was soon a rolling mass of
billows, but the _Dartaway_ with her watertight compartments, rode
over the waves like a duck. True, she was tossed here and there, but
her covered bow and stern did not allow any water to enter, while the
spray, except now and then in a violent gust, was prevented from coming
aboard by the stout awning.
The red and green side lights had been set aglow some time before,
though it is doubtful if they could be seen ten feet away, because of
the tossing waves.
“Let’s start the search-light,” said Ned. “It will show us where we are
going and prevent us being run down.”
Sam said it would be a good plan, and the beacon was soon ignited,
sending out its glaring pencil of light over the dark and angry waters.
“She’ll stand to come in a bit,” called Sam to Jerry. “Hold as close
to the wind as you can, and we’ll try and scud along the coast. We may
fetch up somewhere on a point if we’re not too far out.”
Jerry shifted the wheel, and the _Dartaway_, answering well to her new
power, changed her course. Suddenly it began to rain, a downpour so
violent that it served in a measure to flatten down the crests of the
waves.
Though the rain served this good turn, it was unwelcome on another
account. Tight as the awning was, much water now came in through the
flaps that would blow open a bit, in spite of Sam’s efforts. In a
little while there was scarcely a dry spot aboard the boat, and the
occupants were wet through.
But, in spite of their terror (and the boys were not ashamed to admit
they were frightened); in spite of their plight which was about as bad
as could be, there was a certain feeling of pride in their boat. It was
a gallant craft, and the lads, more than ever, felt the _Dartaway_ was
a friend indeed.
On and on the wind drove her. It was impossible to tell where they
were. The searchlight showed a waste of heaving waters and a downpour
of rain, that fell on the top of the canopy as though it would beat it
down about the heads of the occupants of the craft. The wind blew more
steadily now.
“We’re all right,” spoke Sam, encouragingly. “We’ll weather the gale.”
A small acetylene lamp inside the awnings gave light and by its
glow Ned made some coffee on the gasolene stove. It took the last
of their slender supply of water, but Sam said they had better keep
their strength up through the storm, as they would probably get help
by morning. Then, with the ten sardines and the crackers they made a
midnight lunch which, in spite of the surrounding, was much enjoyed.
Through the whole of the night they were driven by the storm. How he
steered Jerry never knew. It was going it blind, in the dark. But the
_Dartaway_ carried them safe, and, when morning dawned, the rain had
ceased, the sun came up and the wind had become merely a fresh breeze.
It had shifted its direction again, at which Sam, after a glance at the
compass, uttered a joyful cry.
“Couldn’t be better,” he announced. “It’ll take us right back home
again. Say, you boys are certainly lucky!”
They opened the awnings and let the boat dry out. Then, with the wind
at their backs, filling the sail, which had been made as large as
possible, they headed for home.
“No breakfast!” sighed Chunky, but to himself. He did not want the
others to overhear.
No one except the fleshy youth seemed to mind the lack of food,
however, though all were very thirsty, and there was not a drop of
water aboard.
“We ought to make land by noon, at this rate,” Sam said.
Chunky said nothing, but he pulled his belt a little tighter across his
stomach. He seemed to feel better, when he had thus reduced the “size
of his hunger.”
It was about ten o’clock that morning when Sam, who was steering, cried:
“There’s the lighthouse, boys! We’ll put in there for repairs.”
There, looming up in the sun was the big white tower that stood on a
rocky point which jutted out from the main land. It was still several
miles away, but their present course was taking them straight toward
it. It was the lower or South light, as it was called, the one the boys
had intended to visit, but which they had not as yet.
“I hope he’s got gasolene there,” said Jerry. “I can mend the tank, and
we can soon be home.”
“I guess Peter Hardack, the keeper, can fix you up,” spoke Sam. “He
keeps a lot of supplies on hand.”
An hour later they were at the lighthouse. The keeper saw them coming
and was down to his small dock to meet them. When he saw Sam the
keeper exclaimed:
“If it isn’t my old friend! What have you done, turned motor pirate?”
The sailor briefly explained their plight.
“Come right in!” exclaimed the hospitable Mr. Hardack. “I’ll get you
some breakfast and you can dry your clothes.”
“Have you any gasolene, and can we send a message to Harmon Beach?”
asked Jerry anxiously.
“Both, sonny. Come right in.”
The boat was made fast to the dock, and the little party of mariners
were escorted into the living rooms of the lighthouse, which were in a
small apartment built around the base of the tower.
“Here Jessica!” called Mr. Hardack. “Jessica! Where are you?”
“Coming, uncle,” called a voice, and a tall pretty girl entered the
room, stopping in confusion at the sight of the strangers.
“Here are some almost-shipwrecked people,” the keeper went on with a
smile. “They want some hot coffee, and anything else you have.”
“Don’t go to any trouble,” said Ned, and Bob glared at his chum.
“Oh it’s no trouble. My niece will see to things. And take care of the
cat, too.”
While breakfast was being prepared Jerry telephoned to a hotel near his
mother’s house and asked that a message be sent to relieve her worry.
Then, having borrowed some old clothes of the keeper, the boys and Sam
dried their own.
After breakfast Jerry mended the leak in the gasolene tank, and, buying
some of the fluid from the keeper, soon had the _Dartaway_ in shape
for another voyage. They bade their new friends good-bye, receiving an
invitation to come again, and soon they were back at Harmon Beach. They
took the cat with them and Mrs. Hopkins made a pet of it.
They found there was some excitement over their absence all night, but
Mrs. Hopkins had come to regard the boys’ escapades with a sort of
philosophy. She believed the lads would turn up all right somehow.
Sam attended to the matter of the salvaged cargo. An agent for the
steamer came to the beach, and took charge of all the stuff that had
been saved from the sea. The sailor and the boys received a goodly sum
for the valuable bark they had saved.
It was about a week after this that the three lads had gone in their
boat to a small summer resort about three miles down the coast, where
there were varied amusement features. They took in several of them,
and, as they were strolling along the boardwalk, getting ready to come
home, Jerry nudged Ned.
“Who’s that just ahead of us?” he asked.
Ned looked. At that moment a girl and a youth just in advance of the
three boys came under an electric light.
“Why, it’s Noddy Nixon!” exclaimed Ned in a whisper.
“And who’s with him?”
“The girl from the lighthouse! Jessica!”