CHAPTER XI

THE HOUSEBOAT

“Lightning!” cried Bob.

“Must have struck here!” remarked Ned.

“Did you ever see lightning so near at hand and not hear thunder?” asked Jerry. “It was a searchlight, I think.”

“A searchlight in this deserted region?” inquired Ned. “Guess again, Jerry.”

No sooner had he spoken than there came the intense white glare again. This time there was no mistaking it. It was the flare of an acetylene gas lantern.

“An automobile!” cried Bob.

“On the lake?” asked Ned. Then suddenly changing the subject; “Wow! I wish I had an umbrella for a few minutes!” He felt a stream of water running down his back.

The white shaft of light played about, now on the trees, now on the water, and again full into the faces of the bewildered travelers, who stood in the downpour, not knowing what to do. Then, from out of the darkness behind the shaft of illumination were heard the clear tones of a girl’s voice calling:

“Well, dad, we’ve struck land at any rate!”

“It’s a boat!” exclaimed Jerry. “Somebody has landed here in a boat!”

“Girls and women in it,” added Ned, as sounds of several feminine voices were noted. A moment later a man’s tones asked:

“What sort of land have we struck, Rose?”

“Can’t tell, dad,” was the reply. “It’s solid enough at any rate, judging by the way the _Wanderer_ hit it. The searchlight doesn’t show anything but trees, does it Ponto?”

“No, indeedy,” replied a negro. “But, ’scuse me, Miss Rose, I done thought I seed some pursons a minute ago when I done flashed de lantern straight ahead.”

“Persons, Ponto? Then for mercy sakes, flash it that way again, and perhaps they’ll tell us where we are.”

Once more the searchlight shone in the faces of the boys and the professor, and this time the girl, who had been speaking to the negro, saw the travelers.

“Can you tell us where we are?” she called, raising her voice to be heard above the roar of the storm.

“On an island in Lake Kissimmee,” replied Jerry. “What boat is that?”

“The houseboat _Wanderer_.”

“What is it, Rose?” called another girl’s voice from somewhere in the darkness back of the lantern.

“Some boys and a man,” replied Rose.

“Girls! Girls!” exclaimed the voice of the gentleman aboard the _Wanderer_. “Stop that chattering! If there are persons out in the rain why don’t you ask them to come aboard out of the storm? Ponto, run out the gangplank!”

“Yas, sah, right away, sah!”

There was a creaking of ropes and the rumble of a plank being hauled across the deck.

“Excuse me,” spoke the one who had been called Rose, addressing the three boys and the professor. “Won’t you come aboard out of the wet?”

“Thank you, I believe we will,” answered Jerry, and, as the plank which the negro thrust out touched the bank Jerry stepped on it, followed by his chums and Mr. Snodgrass. A moment later they were under the shelter of the houseboat, standing at the entrance to a snug little cabin, in which were three young ladies and an elderly gentleman.

“Glad to welcome you,” said the man. “My name is Nathan Seabury. These are my daughters, Rose, Nellie and Olivia,” indicating each one in turn. “We are traveling about on this houseboat. The girls pretend it is for my health, but I strongly suspect it is for their own.”

“Now father!” exclaimed Olivia, whom Jerry decided was the prettiest of the three, “you know you’re not well, and it’s time for your medicine.”

“Not until morning, young lady!” and Mr. Seabury winked at the professor.

“Allow me to introduce myself and these boys,” spoke Mr. Snodgrass, handing out a card, inscribed with his name and the initials of the various societies to which he belonged. Then he gave the names of the boys, and briefly told of their travels.

“We started from Kissimmee City about two weeks ago,” explained Mr. Seabury, “and we have been drifting slowly along ever since, enjoying life here. Last night the small motor, which serves to propel our boat at a moderate speed, broke. We anchored but the rope must have slipped, for the first thing we knew we were adrift in the storm. Then we hit this place, and--well, here we are.”

“This is an island,” said Jerry. “We camped here for the night, but the storm woke us up and--”

“Why you are all soaking wet!” interrupted Nellie. “You will catch cold. Ponto, light the fire and heat some water. I’ll make some hot lemonade!”

“Nellie is always afraid some one will catch cold,” explained her father.

“Don’t go to any trouble on our account,” said Ned, for which Bob wanted to kick him, as he was wet and hungry, and it looked as if there were good things to eat aboard the _Wanderer_.

The colored man soon had a fire going in the stove, and the kettle was put on to boil, while Nellie busied herself in making not only hot lemonade, but coffee as well, and setting out some things more substantial, at the sight of which Bob’s drooping spirits revived.

“I’m sorry I can’t offer you some dry garments,” said Mr. Seabury with a smile, “but the fact is my boys are all girls. I might help the professor out--but the others--”

“We have plenty of dry things in our boat,” said Ned. “I’ll go and get them.”

The plan was voted a good one. Aided by the searchlight, which was turned to illuminate the path from the houseboat to where the _Dartaway_ was moored Ned, borrowing a big raincoat from Mr. Seabury, went to the craft, and, from the waterproof lockers took out dry garments for himself and the others of his party. These he held under the raincoat and brought aboard the _Wanderer_.

The boys and the professor removed their wet clothes and put on dry ones in one of the spare rooms of the houseboat, and then sat down to the meal which Nellie and her sisters, aided by Jeanette, a colored servant, had prepared.

It was still raining hard, and, as the houseboat was large, Mr. Seabury’s invitation, that the boys and the professor stay aboard until morning was accepted. The _Dartaway’s_ bunks had not been made up, and to arrange them in the darkness and rain would have been quite a task. So the travelers were grateful for the unexpected hospitality afforded.

It cleared off in the morning, and when the boys and Mr. Snodgrass arose they looked out on a scene of beauty. The island lay in the middle of a large blue lake that was fringed all around with big trees, the green foliage of which looked fresh and clean after the shower.

“It’s your turn to get breakfast, Bob,” observed Jerry. “Skip ashore and start a fire.”

“I was just going to ask you to do me the honor to take breakfast with me,” put in Mr. Seabury, coming on deck. “I’d be very pleased to have you.”

Ned was going to refuse, as he thought the addition of four to the eating accommodations of the _Wanderer_ might prove too great a strain, but Mr. Seabury anticipated him.

“I am not altogether unselfish in asking you,” he went on. “I am anxious to have you look at our engine. Ponto doesn’t seem to be able to find out what the trouble is, though usually he can fix it. So if you’ll stay to breakfast and then look at my motor I’ll be very much obliged.”

“We will!” exclaimed Bob, before any of the others could answer.

“Then I’ll go below and see that the girls have things in readiness,” said the owner of the houseboat. “We are living unconventionally here,” he added. “I find the climate is very good for my nerves, which are more at fault than my general health.”

While breakfast was being prepared the boys looked over the _Wanderer_. They found it a first-class houseboat, with many improvements and conveniences.

“We’ll give Bob a chance to fix the motor, he was so anxious to stay,” said Ned to Jerry. “I’d like to see him sweating over it.”

“You’ve got to help,” stipulated Bob. “You’re just as anxious to stay to breakfast as I am, only you’re afraid to say so. Come on, there’s the bell!”