“SAIL HO!”
Frank, in the heavy slumber that had come to him as soon as his watch
was over, seemed to smell something burning. It was like the mingled
odor of charred rope and scorched leather and came pungently to his
nose.
At first he paid no heed to it, but turned restlessly in his slumber to
compose himself more comfortably on the bunch of seaweed that served as
his bed. Then the odor became stronger.
“Andy must be too near the fire, and is burning his shoes,” he thought
in a sort of hazy way. “He ought to be more careful. I guess—”
Frank was wide-awake in a moment, for he heard some one exclaim aloud as
if in pain.
“What’s that?” cried the lad, sitting up. The smell of burnt leather and
rope was even more noticeable. Frank peered out of the shelter toward
the campfire.
A strange sight met his eyes. There was Andy fast asleep, and there was
the mysterious man, lying at full length on the sand, holding his
rope-bound feet as near to the blaze as he dared. He was burning off the
cords that bound his legs that he might be free, and it was the smell of
charred rope and leather that had awakened Frank.
The explanation came to him in an instant. The man had seen Andy fall
asleep. He had rolled from his shelter over and over on the sand and had
gotten near enough to the blaze to nearly accomplish his purpose. Frank
dashed out.
“Andy! Andy!” he called. “Wake up, our prisoner is trying to get away!”
The man, with a snarl of rage, tried to burst the ropes that still held
his legs, but they were not yet burned enough to break. He had not
risked loosening his hands in that way.
Frank, in another instant, was beside their prisoner. He had a spare
piece of rope, and this he quickly passed about the man’s ankles, for
fear some of the other strands had become weak.
“What’s the matter?” demanded Andy, rubbing his eyes and leaping up.
“Did I fall asleep? Did he get away?”
“You were asleep all right,” replied Frank. “But he didn’t escape. I
guess we’ll have to both watch after this.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” said the younger lad contritely.
“That’s all right,” spoke Frank kindly. “You couldn’t help it. We had no
sleep last night. Now you get back where you came from,” he ordered the
man.
“Aren’t you going to help me? I can’t walk.”
“Then roll in the same as you rolled out.”
There was no help for it, and the prisoner, muttering threats against
the lads, was forced to roll over and over on the sand until he was back
in his shelter. Thereafter Andy and Frank both stayed awake until
morning came.
[Illustration: THEY RESUMED WORK ON THE RAFT IMMEDIATELY AFTER A HASTY
BREAKFAST.]
They resumed work on the raft immediately after a hasty breakfast. In
order that their prisoner might be taken to the mainland, or out as far
as they might go before a ship picked them up, they made a sort of
platform, on which he could sit. They also improvised a mast on which
they stretched a piece of canvas they found in the wrecked motor boat.
By noon their rude vessel was completed.
“Now for the launching,” exclaimed Frank. “It’s nearly high tide, and if
we can work it a little farther down the beach the tide will do the
heaviest work for us. Then we’ll go aboard.”
“I’m not going on that thing!” snarled their prisoner.
“Yes, you are, if we have to carry you,” declared Frank.
“But I may be drowned. You ought to take off these ropes if you’re going
to do such a foolhardy thing as to sail on that raft.”
“Not much!” exclaimed Frank determinedly. “We’ve had enough of your
tricks. You’ll go on that raft, and you’ll stay tied up.”
“But if I give you my promise?” whined the man, who seemed to have lost
much of his bravado.
“Nixy on _your_ promises,” exclaimed Andy. “Come on, Frank, let’s work
the raft down the shore a bit.”
It was not without much labor that the boys succeeded in getting the
heavy mass of driftwood down where the tide would float it for them. The
man watched them with a scowling face, occasionally muttering to
himself.
“Better take something to eat along with us; hadn’t we?” asked Andy,
when they were waiting for the rising tide.
“Sure,” assented Frank. “We may not be picked up until along toward
night. And we’ll want water. Lucky we’ve got some empty cracker tins to
carry it in.”
They put the food and water aboard, rigged up their rude sail, and then
carried their prisoner aboard, as it would be awkward to handle him
after the raft was afloat.
Meanwhile they had looked eagerly for any sign of an approaching sail,
but had seen nothing.
“Well, I guess we can get aboard,” spoke Frank at length. “It’s been
quite an adventure for us, and I’m glad it’s about over. Paul Gale will
soon know who he is.”
“We’ll see,” sneered the man.
The raft was afloat. With their paddles the boys began to work it slowly
from shore. The wind caught their small sail.
Suddenly Frank, who was seated ahead of his brother, uttered a cry.
“Sail ho! Sail ho!” he shouted.
“Where?” demanded Andy.
“Right over there and she’s headed this way,” said Frank, pointing.
“It’s a big motor boat. I believe it’s coming to rescue us, Andy! Let’s
wait a bit!”
Eagerly they looked to where a speedy craft was plowing over the waters
of the great bay. Frantically they shouted and waved anything they could
find until answering signals told them that theirs had been seen.