THE IMPRISONED LAUNCH
The prospect ahead did not dismay Darry at all.
He had been a sailor for some years and was accustomed to meeting all
kinds of bad weather.
Besides, his boat though old, was staunch, and could hold its own
against waves that would upset another craft less steady; and then again
he knew how to handle his oars with the skill that only long practice
can bring.
By degrees he lost sight of the sandy shore.
He was now surrounded by a heaving sheet of water, and it required all
his knowledge of things nautical to keep his bearings, for it was
impossible to see even the slightest object on any side.
The situation would have alarmed many a lad less accustomed to depending
on himself in emergencies.
Darry felt no fear.
He noted the direction of the waves, and unless the wind shifted
suddenly, which it was not apt to do, he felt positive he could bring up
somewhere along the shore near the village.
To his surprise he heard the sullen boom of a gun close by and wondered
what any sportsman could be doing out there in that dense atmosphere,
where it was impossible to see more than fifty feet away.
Certainly ducks could not be coming to stool under such conditions.
What could he be firing at then?
There it was again, one shot following another in rapid order, until he
had counted six.
That would indicate the possession of one of those new style repeating
shotguns, capable of holding half a dozen shells, and worked with a pump
action.
All of a sudden it struck Darry that possibly someone was in trouble and
was taking this means of summoning assistance; though the chances were
very slight that any bayman would be anywhere near with that gray
blanket covering things--they knew enough to stick to the shore at such
a time.
Our hero changed his course a little thinking it could do no harm to
look into matters and see what the bombarding meant.
Should it prove that some green sportsman from one of the clubs was lost
in the mist perhaps he would be glad of help, and might even promise to
pay liberally to be taken ashore in tow.
Just then Darry's mind was filled with an eager desire to make money,
for he knew of a good use to which he could put it.
Again as he approached, the rattle of a fusilade came to his ears,
followed by a series of shouts in a strained voice.
He was close on the spot apparently.
"Hello!" he shouted in return.
An answering whoop came back.
"This way, please! I'm in a peck of trouble here!" he heard someone say.
Twisting his head around as he bobbed up and down on the rollers, our
hero caught just a glimpse of some object that seemed stationary, with
the waves breaking over it.
It was even worse than being lost upon the sound then--the unknown had
driven his boat upon some half hidden rocks, and caught as in a vise she
was in danger of being wrecked unless some other craft came upon the
spot and pulled her off.
That accounted for the shots and shouts, her owner realizing his extreme
peril, for he was two miles from land and the storm increasing
constantly.
Darry pushed on and soon another surprise awaited him.
"Hello! is that you, Darry?" asked a voice, and now he recognized it, so
that even before he turned around again he knew he was once more in the
company of Paul Singleton.
"How are you, sir?" he cried. "Looks like you had run aground in the
middle of the bay. If you will give me a rope I'll try and drag you off
the way you went on. That is the only thing to be done."
"I like the way you go about business," answered the young man. "I begin
to have hopes that my poor little _Griffin_ may come out of this
adventure with a whole skin. It began to look as though I might have to
swim for it. Here you are with the painter, which I have fastened to the
stern. All depends on how good a haul you can give, Darry."
"What happened to your engine, sir?" asked the boy, surprised that it
was not working in the effort to help the boat off.
"I'll start it up again, but it did no good before, only churned the
water. It seems I am wedged between two rocks so fast that even the lift
of the waves has no effect upon the boat. They break all over us, and
I'm wet to the skin and shivering in the bargain. You're as welcome as
the flowers in May, Darry."
The engine was speedily started up and the little propeller thrashed the
water at a great rate, but though the cedar craft trembled violently
there was no change in her position.
"Keep that up and stay in the stern, so as to lighten the bow all you
can. I think that is where she is caught fast. If you have anything
heavy up forward and can manage to shift it aft so much the better,"
called Darry, as he kept off by an expert use of the oars; indeed, Paul
never could understand how he managed to do this and secure the rope to
a thwart at the same time.
"There are a few things up there I can move--the water can and a lot of
stuff in tins. Will you be able to hold out a few minutes longer?" asked
Paul.
"Easy enough. Take your own time, sir. When you're ready tell me, and
I'll give a series of sharp jerks. I hope we can make her move some."
Presently the owner of the motor-boat declared he had moved everything
possible, and that the bow seemed to be a little more free than before,
as though almost ready to rise with each flowing wave that swept past
with a rush.
Darry set to work and began to use every atom of strength in his sturdy
muscles; at the same time he engineered matters in such a clever fashion
that every time he pulled his oars through the water it was with a rapid
movement in the nature of a shock, so that the little hawser tightening,
gave a drag at the imprisoned craft.
"She's moving!" yelled Paul Singleton, excitedly.
Darry kept right along, pulling with even more vim than before.
"Bully boy! she's coming! I can feel her move each time. If only an
inch, it is something. We're going to get her off! It's a cinch, I tell
you!"
Plainly Paul Singleton was considerably excited over the changed
prospect that confronted him, and his cries gave the lad heart to exert
himself to the utmost.
Suddenly he found that he was towing the launch behind him.
She had left her berth in between the two rocks and floated on the
waves.
The owner gave a last whoop of delight.
"I knew if anyone could accomplish it, you would. I think you must be my
good genius, Darry. To think of our meeting again here in the middle of
the bay and just when I was on my way to your home to see if I could
induce you to keep your half-given promise. It's great! Tell me about
destiny after this."
That was the way Paul was calling out, as he busied himself in righting
things aboard the jaunty little cedar craft.
[Illustration: SHE HAD LEFT HER BERTH IN BETWEEN THE TWO ROCKS AND
FLOATED ON THE WAVES.]
"Now, what's to hinder you coming aboard and towing the rowboat astern?
The engine is all right and capable of twelve miles an hour, so we can
go with this blow easily enough," he suggested.
Darry was quite willing, for his arms felt a bit weary after his
exerions, and the launch did look comfortable, even though fairly
drenched just then, as a result of the waves breaking over the stern
while she was held a prisoner in the jaws of rock.
The transfer was made without any particular trouble, and once Darry had
secured his boat to the brass cleat in the stern of the launch he set to
work throwing some of the surplus water overboard.
"Working your passage, eh?" laughed Paul, who seemed to be in unusually
high spirits, such was the re-action that had come over him.
Meanwhile they drew in toward the land.
What with the rain that was falling both of them were wet through; but
this was such a chronic condition for a sailor lad to be in that Darry,
for one, paid little attention to it.