THE STORM
Neale O'Neil was a lad to whom, young as he was, emergencies came as a
sort of second nature. His life in the circus had prepared him for quick
and unusual action. Many times, while traveling with the tented shows,
accidents had happened. Sometimes one of the animals would get loose,
perhaps one of the "hay feeders," by which is meant the elephants,
horses or camels. Or, worse than this, one of the big "cats," or the
meat eaters--including lions, tigers and leopards--would break from a
cage. Then consternation would reign.
But Neale had seen how the circus men had met these emergencies, always
working for the safety of others.
And now, as he seemed to be alone in the semi-darkness and silence of
the houseboat at midnight, Neale felt that the time had come for him to
act.
"We must have pulled our anchor, or else some one has cut us adrift,"
decided the lad. "And if any one has cut us loose it must be those men
from the motor boat--the tramps--the thieves!"
He visualized their evil countenances and thought of how they had
behaved toward Ruth and Agnes--that is, if these were the two men in
question.
"And I wonder if Hank stands in with them," mused Neale. "I must find
out. But first I've got to do something about the boat. If we're adrift,
as we surely are, we may run into some other craft, or one may run into
us, or--"
Neale paused as he felt a grating beneath the broad, flat bottom of the
boat and the craft careened slightly.
"We may go aground or be blown on an island," was his completed thought.
"But we're safe so far," he mentally added, as he felt the _Bluebird_
slip off some under-water rock or reef of mud over which she progressed.
Then Neale galvanized himself into action. He forgot all about the drink
he had been going to get, and, slipping on shoes and a rubber coat that
hung in his room, he stepped out into the corridor which ran the length
of the boat between the two rows of sleeping rooms.
Neale was going up on deck to look around and, if possible, find out
what had caused the boat to break away from her moorings.
As Neale passed Ruth's door it opened and she came out, wrapped in a
heavy robe.
"What is it, Neale?" asked the oldest Corner House girl. "Has anything
happened?"
"Nothing much yet. But it may," was the answer. "We're adrift, and it's
coming on to blow. I'm going to see what the matter is."
"I'll come with you," Ruth offered. Neale was like a brother to the
Kenway girls. "Shall I call Mr. Howbridge and Mrs. Mac?" she asked.
"Not yet," he answered in a low voice. "It may be that the cable has
only slipped, but I don't see how it could. In that case I'll only have
to take a few turns around a cleat and we'll be all right. No use
calling any one unless we have to."
"I'll come and help," Ruth offered, and Neale knew she could be of
excellent service.
Together they ascended the stairs in the half darkness, illuminated by
the glow from a night oil lamp in the hall. But no sooner had they
emerged on the open deck than they became aware of the gravity of the
situation. They were almost blinded by an intense glare of lightning.
This was followed by a menacing rumble of thunder, and then Ruth gasped
for breath as a strong wind smote her in the face, and Neale, just ahead
of her, turned to grasp her lest she be blown against a railing and
hurt.
"Great guns!" exclaimed Neale, "it's going to be a fierce storm."
"Are we really adrift?" exclaimed Ruth, raising her voice to be heard
above the howl of the wind.
"I should say we are!" cried Neale in answer. "But the boat is so big
and solid she isn't going as fast as an ordinary craft would. But we're
drifting all right, and it's going to be a whole lot worse before it's
better. Do you want to stay here?" he asked.
"Of course I do! I'm going to help!" declared Ruth. But at that moment
came another bright flash of lightning and a terrific peal of thunder.
And then, as if this had split open the clouds, down came a deluge of
rain.
"Go below and get on your waterproof and then tell the others to get up
and dress," advised Neale. "We may come out of it all right, and again
we may not. It's best to be prepared."
"Are we--are we far from shore?" panted Ruth, the wind almost taking the
words from her mouth. "Are we apt to be dashed against it, do you
think?"
"We can't be wrecked," Neale answered her. "This is a well built boat.
But we may have to go ashore in the rain, and it's best for the children
to be dressed."
"I'll tell them!" cried Ruth, and she descended, glad to be in out of
the storm that was increasing in violence every moment. That little time
she was exposed to it almost drenched her. Neale's rubber coat was a
great protection to him.
The boy gave one quick look around. The wind was blowing about over the
deck a number of camp stools that had been left out, but he reasoned
that they would be caught and held by the rope network about the deck.
Neale's chief anxiety was about the anchor.
The cable to which this was bent was made fast to a cleat on the lower
deck, and as the lad made his way there by an outside stairway he heard
some one walking on the deck he had just quitted.
"I guess that's Hank," Neale reasoned.
The boy was pulling at the anchor rope when he heard Hank's voice near
him asking:
"What's the matter, Neale?"
"We're either dragging our anchor or the cable's cut," answered the lad.
And then, as the rope came dripping through his hands, offering no
resistance to the pull, he realized what had happened. The anchor was
gone! It had slipped the cable or been cut loose. Just which did not so
much matter now, as did the fact that there was nothing to hold the
_Bluebird_ against the fury of the gale.
Realizing this, Neale did not pull the cable up to the end. He had found
out what he wanted to know--that the anchor was off it and somewhere on
the bottom of the lake. He next turned his attention to the boat.
"We're drifting!" he cried to Hank. "We've got to start the motor, and
see if we can head up into the wind. You go to that and I'll take the
wheel!"
"All right," agreed the mule driver. "This is some storm!" he added,
bending his head to the blast of the wind and the drive of the rain.
It was growing worse every moment, Neale realized. Buttoned as his
rubber coat was, the lower part blew open every now and then, drenching
his bare legs.
As the boy hurried to the upper deck again to take command of the
steering wheel, he heard from within the _Bluebird_ sounds which told
him the Corner House girls, their guardian, and Mrs. MacCall were
getting up. The voices of Tess and Dot could be heard, excited and
somewhat frightened.
"The only real danger," thought Neale to himself, "is that we may hit a
rock or something, and stave a hole in us. In that case we'd sink, I
guess, and this lake is deep."
But he had not told Ruth that danger. He grasped the spokes of the wheel
firmly, and waited for the vibration that would tell him Hank had
started the motor. And as he waited he had to face the wind and rain,
and listen to the vibrating thunder, the while he was almost blinded by
the vivid lightning. It was one of those fierce summer storms, and the
temperature took a sudden drop so that Neale was chilled through.
"Why doesn't Hank start that motor?" impatiently thought the lad. "We're
drifting fast and that big island must be somewhere in this
neighborhood. I wonder how close it is? If we hit that going like
this--good-night!"
A vivid flash of light split the darkness like a dagger of flame and
revealed the heaving tumultuous lake all about, the waters whipped and
lashed into foam by the sudden wind. Storms came up quickly on Lake
Macopic, due to the exposed situation of the body of water, and there
were often fatalities caused by boats being caught unprepared.
Just as Neale was going to take a chance and hurry below to see what was
delaying Hank, there came the vibration of the craft which told that the
motor had been started.
"Now we'll get somewhere," cried Neale aloud. "I think I'd better head
into the wind and try to make shore. If I can get her under the shelter
of that bluff we passed this afternoon, it will be the best for all of
us."
He swung the wheel around, noting that the _Bluebird_ answered to the
helm, and then he dashed the water from his face with a motion of his
head, shaking back his hair. As the craft gathered speed a figure came
up the stairs and emerged on deck. It fought its way across the deck to
the wheel and a voice asked:
"Are we making progress, Neale?"
[Illustration: "You shouldn't have come here, Aggie!" he cried,
above the noise of the storm.]
"Oh, yes! But you shouldn't have come up here, Aggie!" he cried, above
the noise of the storm. "You'll be drenched!"
"No, I have on Mr. Howbridge's raincoat. I made him and Ruthie let me
come up here to help you. You certainly need help in this emergency."
"It's an emergency all right!" declared Neale. "But we may come out of
it safely."
"Can't I help you steer?" asked Agnes. "I know how."
"Yes, you may help. I'm trying to make--"
Neale never finished that sentence. A moment later there was a jar that
made him and Agnes stagger, and then the _Bluebird_ ceased to progress
under the power of her motor and was again being blown before the fury
of the storm.