AT THE MERCY OF THE TEMPEST
The wind was so violent that Ned dared not stand erect. He crossed on
hands and knees the brief stretch that separated the tent from the lower
end of the island.
The buttonwood was still standing--much to his relief--and the canoes
were so far uninjured, though the gale was knocking them together pretty
forcibly.
Bracing himself against the buttonwood, Ned turned the lantern in all
directions, and soon discovered the tree which had caused such alarm by
its fall. It lay prostrate on the other island, but as a channel barely
half a dozen yards wide separated the two, it was not surprising that
the crash should have sounded very near.
The storm still raged with unabated fury. The lightning played
incessantly over the heavens, and the thunder was continuous.
Ned took advantage of a lull in the wind to start on his return, but he
had scarcely left the tree when the lantern slipped from his hand, and
was extinguished by the fall. He found it after a short search, and as
he could see plainly enough without a light, he pushed on toward the
tent, bending his body forward to escape the cutting rain.
A sudden fierce blast of wind compelled him to crouch close to the
ground, and just as he rose a jagged flash of lightning turned the
blackness into a purple glare. Ned's eyes happened to be resting on the
channel between the two islands, and in that brief instant of light he
saw a boat gliding swiftly down the current, cutting gracefully through
the great waves that rose to meet it.
On the rear seat, paddle in hand, sat a man. A dark slouch hat, pulled
far down, concealed his features. He seemed perfectly at home, and in no
wise discomfited by the storm that was raging around him.
As the vivid light faded away Ned ran back to the buttonwood tree, and
watched the blurred shape of the boat as it came down the channel. He
breathed a sigh of relief when it passed out from the islands and
continued on through the gloom, for his first thought had been that some
danger menaced the camp.
Why a man should voluntarily expose himself to such a pitiless storm,
and at such an hour of the night, was a mystery too deep for Ned's
comprehension. It was certain, at all events, that the stranger was
abroad for no good purpose.
Either his errand was in no wise connected with the Jolly Rovers, or
else he had passed close by the tent without seeing it--even when the
flash of lightning made the night as bright as noonday.
Ned waited beside the buttonwood tree until another flash gave him a
brief glimpse of the boat far below the island. Then he hurried back to
the tent and crawled under the rear end. The boys immediately besieged
him with questions, and their anxiety was quickly allayed.
"The canoes are safe," said Ned, as he relighted the lantern. "The tree
that fell was on the other island. I don't think the storm can last much
longer, I believe the wind is subsiding a little now."
He was about to tell them of the strange boat and its occupant that had
passed down the channel, when a terrific blast checked the words on his
lips. The tent swayed to and fro, and just at this critical moment one
of the front flaps tore free of the strings that held it to the pole.
The gale instantly swept under the canvas, lifted the tent bodily, and
whirled it through the air, leaving the amazed boys exposed to the
driving rain.
Ned snatched the lantern and ran down the island. The others followed
him, and when they reached the buttonwood tree they saw the tent
floating limply on the waves twenty feet beyond the canoes.
"We must recover it at all hazards," cried Ned hoarsely. "Our cruise is
ruined if we don't. Who will go with me?"
"I will," replied Randy.
"And I," added Clay.
"One is enough," said Ned. "I'll take Randy. If the wind prevents us
from getting back don't you fellows be alarmed. Keep out of the rain as
much as possible, and if your clothes get wet put on dry ones."
There was no time to lose, for the tent had drifted into the fierce
current below the island, and was already out of sight. There was great
danger of its sinking as soon as the canvas became thoroughly soaked.
Hastily untying their canoes from the roots of the tree, Ned and Randy
paddled away in the darkness, leaving Clay and Nugget to make the best
of their desertion.
It was a bad night to be on the water. The storm was still raging, and
the surface of the creek was lashed with great foamy billows. The boys
did not find the tent immediately.
In fact the wind and the current together drove them a quarter of a mile
down stream before they could control their canoes sufficiently to head
them around. And even when they accomplished this they found it out of
the question to return. Not one inch could they gain in the teeth of the
blast, though they paddled hard and fast.
Fortunately the canoes were empty, and this rendered them safe and
buoyant, so that they rose lightly on the crest of every wave. They
would surely have swamped had the usual loads been in the hatches.
"We stand a poor show of getting back to the island this night," cried
Randy in a loud enough tone for his companion to hear. "I'll be
satisfied if we find the tent. Do you think it is still afloat?"
With a half a dozen desperate strokes Ned then brought the Pioneer
alongside the Water Sprite.
"I don't know," he replied. "If the tent is still on the surface it must
have drifted pretty near by this time. We've been trying to force our
way up stream for nearly ten minutes. Keep a sharp lookout on your side,
Randy, and I'll do the same on mine."
This was by no means an easy matter. It was difficult to see with any
clearness at a distance of ten yards, and though Ned still had the
lighted lantern in his cockpit, it was impossible to make use of it and
to paddle at the same time.
For a few moments longer the boys continued the futile struggle with the
wind and current. The rain was still falling in torrents, but their
rubber coats kept them fairly dry, and the canvas aprons buttoned
tightly over the cockpits, prevented the canoes from filling.
At last, when both lads were quite in despair, a flash of lightning
revealed the tent a few yards to the left, rising and falling with the
waves.
When the difficult operation of turning the canoes down stream was
safely performed, the tent was some yards away. It was still dimly
visible and the boys soon caught up with it.
It threatened at first to be a sort of white elephant on their hands,
for the three poles were still in position, and the canvas was
hopelessly tangled about them.
Had the boys been in a boat their task would have been comparatively
easy. As it was they had to be very cautious for fear of upsetting.
Finally, by getting the unwieldy mass between them and employing their
paddles instead of hands they succeeded in dragging a portion of it upon
the fore deck of each canoe. The center still sagged in the water, but
it was impossible to make any better arrangement.
"Paddle very carefully now," was Ned's caution. "We will run into shore
at the first opportunity, and if the storm abates one of us can go up
for Clay and Nugget. The island can't be more than half a mile away."
This project, simple as it sounded, was quite impracticable at the
present time. The wind had fallen some, but the waves were still so
violent that the only safety for the heavily encumbered canoes lay in
keeping parallel with the current. A flank movement toward shore would
have brought speedy disaster.
The boys realized this and stuck to mid-channel. The continued speed of
the current mystified them considerably, and they were quite at a lost
to account for it until Ned raised the lantern, and turned it on the
surface of the creek.
"Good gracious!" he cried. "The water is yellow with mud. The creek is
rising. No wonder it runs like a mill race. This same storm must have
deluged the upper end of the valley before it reached here."
Proof of Ned's assertion was not wanting, for that instant the canoes
rustled through the protruding grass of a submerged island.
The water Sprite stuck fast on what was probably the crest, and the
Pioneer instantly swung around with the current, shaking off the folds
of the tent.
Randy turned sideways to see how his companion was faring, and his face
suddenly blanched.
"Look! look! Ned," he cried in a hoarse, frightened voice. "What is
that?"
Randy's alarming cry was called forth by the discovery of a long dusky
object that was bearing rapidly down upon the canoes.
The same chilling fear entered the hearts of both lads they watched its
noiseless approach. They believed it to be an upturned canoe--a message
fraught with tidings of disaster.