A PERILOUS CRUISE
The sailor Daley sat down quietly in the bow of the yawl, his face
beaming.
"Do you mean that, Fearless?" he said.
"I certainly do," answered Dave.
"You want us to side with you?"
"I have said so, Mr. Daley, haven't I?" asked Dave pleasantly.
"Make it a bargain, Daley," advised one of his companions eagerly.
"He's a smart lad, and his talk is square, although we have treated him
low and shabby."
"Never mind that," said Dave lightly. "You were in bad company, that's
all. Make it business, up and down. My father and I came here to get a
fortune which we had rightfully inherited. The Hankers have tried to
steal it. We shall get that fortune yet. Isn't it better for you
people to be in on the winning side?"
"Fearless," said Daley, "there's my hand. It's a compact, is it?"
"True and faithful," answered Dave, and they shook hands all around.
"Now let me tell you that the _Swallow_ is in fine trim, is cruising
around these waters somewhere. She is bound, of course, to land on the
Windjammers' Island. Get these boats there if you know how to do it,
and we'll soon get into some kind of action that is bound to bring us up
against Captain Broadbeam and the others, who will be true friends to
you if you'll only do the right thing."
Dave felt that he had gained a decided victory in making these men his
allies. Without their help he could not reach land. They could guide
him to the land camp of Captain Nesik. The four of them could resist
attacks of the natives if they ran across them, where one might fail.
Dave reasoned that if the men changed their minds later and attempted
any treachery, it would be at a time when he and his friends were
prepared to meet and thwart it.
Dave had confidence in the belief that in some way he would find the
_Swallow_ or the _Swallow_ would find him.
His previous stirring adventures, among the Windjammers and with the
_Raven_ crowd, had brought hardship and endurance that made him now
hopeful and courageous and quick to see a way to meet a situation and
conquer it.
In fact, Dave's career had made considerable of a man of him. It had
taught him self-reliance, and he was pleased to notice how readily the
three castaways recognized him as a leader.
They acted like new men under the spur of new hopes. They evidently
believed in Dave. It was some time, however, before Daley would consent
to forego his thirstings for revenge against Nesik and the Hankers.
"Don't you go for to spoil everything by thinking up a rumpus," advised
one of the sailor's companions. "Young Fearless means what he says.
Let's rest on that, say I, and follow his orders."
"I have none to give at present," said Dave. "When I do, I am sure we
will work in harmony all right. Mr. Daley, you are the pilot. Can we
reach the Windjammers' Island in any way?"
"I know the point of the compass all right," asserted Daley. "The
course may be a little blind until this mist rises, but--to your oars,
men, and strike due west. That way," and Daley indicated the direction.
"Get aboard, Fearless. It's most comfortable in the stern."
"Shall we tow the smaller boat?" inquired the young diver.
"What's the use? We don't need it, and it would only hamper us. There
you are, neat and tidy."
They cast the smaller boat adrift. Dave settled down comfortably in the
stern of the larger yawl.
"My!" he soliloquized, "when I think of my forlorn chances when I went
overboard from the _Swallow_ last night and this comfort and security,
I'm a very thankful boy."
Dave had not had a wink of sleep for over thirty-six hours. He began to
doze. Daley, noticing this, ceased his chatter with his companions.
Dave was soon fast asleep.
He roused up with a vivid start some hours later. He had slept so
profoundly, owing to a natural weariness and exhaustion after his
arduous experiences, that he had not even been disturbed by a howling
tempest that had come up.
The mist had dispersed, and it was night. A furious gale was blowing,
and the frail yawl was riding on high waves.
Daley had crawled along the boat. He was shaking Dave vigorously by the
arm. At the same time, bringing his lips close to Dave's ear, he
shouted loudly a word that aroused Dave like an electric shock:
"Land!"
"What--where?" cried Dave, starting up.
"Steady, mate," warned Daley, holding Dave back in the seat. "Get your
peepers wide open and all your senses woke up. Drop the oars," he
yelled to his companions, "they're only in the way. Let her swing.
It's drift or drown now, sure."
Dave sat for a moment grasping the sides of the yawl, and realizing that
they were being driven along at a fearful rate of speed. Daley and his
companions, too, were holding on for life.
"You said land," Dave shouted, trying to raise his voice above the roar
of the tempest.
"Yes," answered Daley. "Now then, when we top a wave, look
sharp--there!"
Daley pointed, and Dave fixed his glance steadily in the direction
indicated.
"I see nothing," he said as they went up, down, and up again. "What did
you mean?"
"A light--there it is."
"I see it," cried Dave.
"It must be a fire alongshore somewhere, probably the Windjammers'
Island," declared Daley.
Dave continued to look. He studied the light each time he was afforded
an opportunity. This was only when they climbed some mighty wave, and
only for a few seconds.
"You are wrong, Mr. Daley," said Dave finally.
"Wrong about what? It's a light, I tell you."
"Yes, but not a shore light."
"You don't know that."
"Yes, I do. It moves as we move, only more steadily. It is some
vessel," declared Dave. "I wouldn't wonder if it was the _Swallow_."
The mere conjecture excited Daley greatly. The men worked at the oars
again. This, however, proved lost energy. When it resulted in one of
the oars being torn from the grasp of its holder, and cast adrift into
the sea, Daley uttered a heart-rending groan.
One of his mates, however, suggested something--this was to use his coat
as a kind of sail. He and the other oarsman attempted this.
"We're going in the direction of the light, sure," cried Daley
jubilantly.
"We're going down!" shouted the man who had suggested the impromptu
sail.
Dave saw that all was over. Whether the use of the sail hastened the
situation, or the little craft would have been overturned anyway by the
gigantic wind that suddenly struck it, he had no time to conjecture.
In an instant the yawl was raised by a mighty force. It flopped over
flat, spilling out all hands.
Dave saw his companions hurled from his sight like disappearing
phantoms. His hand was held by the wrist in a rope loop he had clung to
for protection since waking up.
Dave went over with the boat, under with it, and was unable to
disentangle his wrist. His arm seemed broken. He was whipped about in
a frightful manner.
Twice his head struck the keel of the scudding yawl, twice he was
submerged, choked and blinded.
A third contact with the yawl landed a hard blow right across the
temple, and Dave Fearless lost consciousness.