ASHORE AT LAST
It looked as if Andy was right, for both lions now had their forepaws
on the rail of the ship as if ready to leap down on the improvised raft
and its occupants.
But just at that moment the keel of the _Coryanda_ struck bottom once
more, and an instant later the water-logged yacht swung around and
away from the raft. The lions were left at the rail, and they roared
savagely in their combined perplexity and disappointment. Evidently
they knew not what should be their next move.
But those on the raft could give the beasts no further consideration.
The force of the hurricane sent the bit of wreckage whirling around and
around and how the sea foamed and boiled on every side of the raft.
“Hold tight!” yelled Jack to the others. “Hold tight!”
Andy heeded the command. But Ira Small, who was moving forward and for
an instant had let go of one of the ropes, slipped to the edge and
before he recovered had disappeared in a shower of flying spray.
“Small is gone!” muttered Andy, hoarsely. It was all he could do to
keep himself on the wreckage.
Jack did not answer. He, too, had seen the mishap to the lanky sailor
and he realized that in such a tempest it would be next to impossible
for Small to save himself. He grabbed hold of the loose end of one of
the ropes and, tying this fast under his arms, passed the flashlight to
his cousin.
“Keep this on me if you can,” he said, and leaped overboard.
It was a heroic move to make, for the young major knew that he was
taking his life in his hands. As the light shot through the flying
spray, he caught a glimpse of the hands of the sailor a few yards away.
“Help! Help!” yelled Small. “Throw me a rope!”
“Keep up! I’m coming!” yelled Jack in return.
But at that instant Ira Small disappeared beneath a mountainous wave
that rolled over both him and Jack and threatened to engulf the raft.
It was more by luck than anything else that Jack reached the lanky
sailor even before both of them came up to the top of the wave. Ira
Small was beating the water feebly.
“I――I――got a――a cramp, or somethin’,” he spluttered. “It’s in――my legs.
Save me, lad, save me!”
“Hold tight, and we’ll get back to the raft!” panted Jack. “I’ve got a
rope under my arms. Can you hold yourself?”
“I――guess so, although that cramp is something terrible!” gasped the
poor sailor, and Jack saw his mouth twist in agony.
Another wave came along at that instant, bringing with it the raft,
to which Andy clung with one hand while spraying around the rays of
the flashlight with the other. The light struck the pair in the water
for just a moment, and then the fury of the hurricane sent the raft
forward with a jerk that was keenly felt by Jack. Then the rope parted,
and the young major found himself helpless in the boiling and foaming
waters with a bit of the rope dangling under him and Ira Small clinging
desperately to his back.
“Kin you make it, lad? Kin you make it?” spluttered the old tar.
“No. The rope broke,” answered Jack.
“Then we’re bound for Davy Jones’ Locker!” moaned Ira Small. “Can’t
you save us somehow, lad? Kin you save us somehow? Remember them
thirteen rocks an’ the pirates’ gold. Save me, an’ you kin have all
that gold.” And now the old sailor acted as if he were losing his mind.
He could swim but little, and the thought of being cast away in the
ocean and in the darkness terrorized him.
But if Small was ready to give up, Jack was not. Weighted down as he
was by his clothing and the rope which he could not unfasten just
then, and also by the form of the sailor, he continued to struggle
desperately in an effort to keep afloat. Ship and improvised raft had
both disappeared in the darkness, and he could see only a few feet in
any direction.
He battled bravely, and wave after wave lifted the young major and his
helpless burden up and through that boiling and foaming sea, which
denoted that land was close at hand. Then he, like Randy and Fred, felt
the sand beneath his feet and took fresh courage.
“We’ve struck land!” he cried. “Hold tight for a minute longer, Small,
and I think we’ll be all right.”
Another wave swept forward, carrying the pair well up the beach. Then,
watching his chance, Jack, with Ira Small still clinging to him,
struggled madly to gain some sort of foothold on the shore.
In the meantime, Andy, left alone on the raft, did not know what to do.
He used the searchlight as best he could, and when the rope suddenly
parted he retained presence of mind enough to throw a life-preserver
which was on the raft in the direction his cousin had taken. Then the
waves and the flying spray cut out the view on all sides of him, and
though he wiped off the glass of the searchlight and played the rays in
all directions, he could see nothing but the rolling ocean.
“They are gone! All of them are gone!” he murmured, in agony. “First
Gif and Spouter and Ralph, and now all the others! I’m all alone!”
The poor boy was in such a state of mind that he was almost ready to
cast himself into the sea and end it all. He was trying to think of
what to do when, without warning, the raft was caught up by the waves
and a few seconds later was grounded on the beach. It went back into
the wallow of the sea, but the next wave carried it still higher.
“Ashore! Ashore!” cried Andy, in amazement. And then, before the raft
could again slide back into the ocean, he took a flying leap forward,
landing in water less than a foot deep and hobbled rapidly to a point
of safety. As he did this, the raft was sucked back into the ocean and
it disappeared from view into the gloom of the night and the storm.
Andy had no thought of looking around to see upon what sort of place
he had landed. His one thought was of his cousins and the old sailor.
He still held the flashlight in his hand, and now as rapidly as he
could do so, he hobbled along the sandy beach, throwing the rays of the
flashlight before him and calling loudly.
The first persons he encountered were Jack and the sailor. The young
major sat on the sands panting for breath while beside him in a
semi-conscious condition lay Ira Small.
“Jack!” was the eager cry. “Are you all right?”
“Is that you, Andy?” panted the young major. “Yes, I’m all right. But
Small is pretty close to being all in. When the rope parted I thought
sure we’d be drowned.”
“Where are the others?”
“I don’t know.”
Leaving the old sailor resting where he was, Jack and Andy continued
the search along the sands. They used the searchlight, and presently
heard a cry from a distance, and Fred and Randy appeared.
“Safe! Safe!” cried Andy, joyously. “Oh, how glad I am! I thought I was
going to be all alone!”
It was a happy reunion, and for the moment the Rover boys did nothing
but hug each other in their delight at being together again. They cared
not if the raft and the steam yacht were gone, so long as all of them
were safe. They walked to the spot where Ira Small lay, and each sank
down to rest.
“He’s certainly in bad shape,” said Jack, gazing at the old tar, who,
with closed eyes, was breathing heavily. “He said he had a cramp, or
something like that.”
“I wonder what place this is?” put in Randy. “Maybe there’s some sort
of village or town not far away. If so, we might be able to get a
doctor for him. Now that we have all been saved from the ocean, we
certainly don’t want him to pass away like this.”
After having rested for some time, it was decided among the boys that
the twins should remain with the old tar while Jack and Fred set out on
a tour of exploration, taking the flashlight to guide their way.
The rain had stopped entirely, but the wind blew as fiercely as ever,
and the boys had no easy time of it to make their way along the sandy
shore. Back of the sand they found a dense mass of bushes and trees, a
veritable semi-tropical jungle.
“Gee! this doesn’t look as if there was any village or town very near,”
observed Fred, after they had passed up and down the somewhat narrow
beach for a goodly distance. “Do you suppose we’re on the mainland or
on an island, Jack?”
“I’m of the opinion we’re on an island, Fred. It seems to me we were
drifting southward most of the time.”
“Would we do that if the boat was in the Gulf Stream?”
“I think we were east of the Gulf Stream. Anyway, I’ve got a hunch
that we’re somewhere in the West Indies, although, of course, I may be
mistaken. I’m really and truly all at sea,” and Jack grinned grimly.
The two Rover boys walked along the beach until they came to a point
where a huge wall of rock jutted out into the ocean, and here the
flying spray stopped their further progress. Then they walked back
along the beach to where they had left the twins and the sailor, and
then continued their observations in the other direction. Here they
found that the beach made a turn, and the ocean came into what formed
a small bay. But at the entrance to this the jungle was so dense that
progress on foot was completely cut off.
“There isn’t any path around here, that’s certain,” remarked Jack, at
last. “Do you know what I begin to believe?” he added.
“What?” questioned his cousin.
“I believe we are cast away on a small deserted island.”