CHAPTER V

CAUGHT IN A SQUALL

“Who is it?” asked Jerry.

“Seems to be some one in another motor boat,” Bob replied. “He’s waving at us.”

“Maybe he wants a race,” suggested Ned.

“Well, he can have it if he catches up to us,” Jerry responded. “I’m not going to race otherwise. The _Dartaway_ is not in her best trim, and she may get beaten. Then we’ll get the name of having a slow boat. We’ll have a regular race later, when we are in better shape,” and he put on a little more speed.

Still from behind came the cry over the water:

“Come back! Come back!”

“Oh, cut it out!” exclaimed Bob as he felt the salt wind and spray in his face. “We can’t bother with you. We’re out for a good time. Catch us if you can!”

“Isn’t this glorious!” exclaimed Ned. “Say, but I’m glad we came!”

The _Dartaway_ had increased her speed considerably and was fairly flying through the water. The boys could no longer hear the hailing of the lone man in the boat behind, though they could still see him coming after them.

“Guess if he wants a race he’ll feel sort of discouraged,” Jerry remarked, as he put the wheel over a bit to meet an oncoming wave.

“Funny sort of a chap,” said Bob. “Thinks we ought to stop for him, I s’pose.”

The craft was now approaching one of the two points of land which enclosed the cove of Harmon Beach. The wind, which had been blowing quite strongly, increased in volume and the water became a little rougher. Still there had been just as much disturbance on Lake Cantoga, where the boys had cut their eye teeth in running a boat, and they were not alarmed.

It was getting dusk now, and, off to the east there was a curious haze hanging over the water. Jerry, who was peering sharply ahead, remarked:

“Looks like breakers beyond,” for he had caught sight of some white caps.

“We don’t mind them,” said Ned. “I guess our boat is strong enough to navigate through ’em.”

“Our friend seems to have given up trying to catch us,” Bob said.

“He never had a chance,” came from Ned.

“Hold hard!” Jerry suddenly cried. “Look out!”

An instant later a shower of spray flew over the boat, wetting the boys.

“Hurrah! It’s salt water!” yelled Ned.

“Old Briny!” cried Bob.

“Of course it is,” spoke Jerry, as he wiped the water from his eyes. “We’re right out on the ocean now.”

“Really?” asked Ned, hardly able to believe it.

“Sure,” Jerry added. “We’ve gotten beyond the point of the cove and it’s open water ahead of us now. Europe lies just beyond. Shall we put for it?”

Another dash of spray caused the boys to duck.

“Not to-night,” came from Bob. “There’s nothing on board to eat.”

“You’d think of that if you were headed straight for Davy Jones’s locker,” exclaimed Ned. “Why can’t you forget it, Chunky?”

“This sea air gives me such an appetite,” replied the stout youth.

“Well, we haven’t anything on board to--” began Ned, when his remarks were suddenly interrupted by a roll of the boat that nearly threw him over the side.

“Look out!” cried Jerry. “Here comes a big wave!”

Almost as he spoke there was a rush of greenish-white water and something more substantial than spray came aboard the _Dartaway_.

At the same instant there was an increase in the force of the wind, which fairly howled overhead, and sent the spume from the crests of the waves with stinging force into the faces of the boys.

“What is it?” panted Bob, as he tried to get his breath, after swallowing a mouthful of salt water.

“We seem to have gotten out to sea in a hurry,” replied Jerry.

“It’s beginning to rain!” yelled Ned.

Then everything seemed blotted out by a gray blanket of mist, caused by the drenching downpour. The boys were wet through in an instant, though they tried to cover themselves with some pieces of canvas.

In their hurry to get the boat into the water they had not set the awning. In fact the craft was not at all equipped for a trip, beyond the fact that she could go, since there was plenty of gasolene in the tank.

The _Dartaway_ was rocking and bobbing about on the rough water, for, once beyond the protection of the cove, the full force of the waves and wind was felt.

“Turn around, Jerry!” yelled Bob.

“Yes! Put back!” cried Ned.

“Too risky!” sung out Jerry. “I’ve got to keep her head into the wind,” and he swung the wheel around to meet a big wave.

The crested roller of green water struck the boat half broadside on. Considerable came aboard, but the _Dartaway_, after staggering a bit under the weight, rose to it like a duck, and went on. Jerry started the automatic pump and the water was soon forced out.

“Say, we are in for it!” Bob yelled.

“It’s nothing but a squall!” Jerry called back. He did not have time to turn around, because he had to devote all his attention to the wheel.

“What are you going to do?” asked Ned, shouting the words out. Indeed nothing less than a yell could have been heard above the roar of the wind, the swish of the rain and the splash of the water as it struck the side of the little craft.

“Going to keep on,” replied Jerry grimly. “It’s all I can do. If I turn back I’ll be swamped. Maybe I can run into a quiet cove, somewhere along the beach.”

The squall was now raging in all its sudden, but short-lasting fury. Though the boys realized it would not keep up its capers very long, they knew that their position was anything but a safe one. It was nearly dusk, with the dying light of sunset hidden by the mist and clouds.

Still, as Jerry had said, there was nothing to do but keep on. By doing so the bow of the boat could be held so as to cleave the waves. To turn meant to get them broadside on and this would soon swamp the craft.

“Isn’t there some place we can put in to?” yelled Ned.

“Don’t know of any,” Jerry called back.

Down came the rain, harder than before, and the wind seemed to howl in glee at the plight of the boys. The craft was tossing to and fro on the waves, which, while not of any extraordinary size, were almost too big for the _Dartaway_. They would have amounted to nothing for a larger boat, with more freeboard than had the motor craft.

Ned and Bob crouched in the bottom of the boat, to render it more steady, while Jerry clung to the wheel, which now and then was almost jerked from his hand by the force of the water on the rudder.

Every now and then the salt spray would dash over the craft, adding its saline dampness to that caused by the rain. It was now quite dark, with the rain making it all the more difficult to see. Jerry tried to pierce the gloom, for he had no more idea where he was going than a blind man. He knew he had started to pass out of the harbor of Harmon Beach, between the two points of land, and that he was steering east then. But, whether he had kept the boat headed in that direction was a question he could not answer.

In spite of it all the _Dartaway_ was behaving admirably. She stood up to the attack of the waves and wind like a veteran. It was her baptism of the Atlantic, and she seemed to rejoice in it.

“Hark! I hear something!” cried Ned.

The boys listened as well as they could above the throbbing of the engine. Over the storm-swept waters there sounded three long whistles.

“It’s a boat!” cried Bob. “Look out, or she’ll run us down!”

“Can’t tell where she is,” Jerry answered, his hand on the lever to stop the engine in an instant.

“It’s behind us,” Ned shouted, standing up and trying to see to the rear.

Once more the whistle sounded. This time it was clearer, and in spite of the roar of the wind and the swish of the waves the boys could hear the throb of a boat engine.

“Some one is coming after us!” exclaimed Bob.

Just then, through the mist of the storm there shone a great light, full on the _Dartaway_. It flashed a glaring beacon on the boat, and then suddenly it turned red, flashed twice, and disappeared.