"Take him off!" cried Frank.
"Take him off yourself!" exclaimed Sammy. "Think we want to get nipped?"
"Look out! You'll upset the boat!" cautioned Bob. "Keep still; can't you?"
"No, I can't, and I guess you couldn't, either, with a big blue-claw crab nipping you!" cried Frank. "Ouch! Get him off; can't you!"
He was trying to do this for himself, but the crab, that was one of the biggest caught, had one claw free, and every time Frank reached out his hand to grasp the creature, and pull it from his toe, the crab would open his other claw, and wave it around threateningly. So Frank was a bit cautious about taking hold of the creature.
"Look out! The others are getting out!" cried Sammy, as he glanced at the basket of crabs.
It was only too true. The boys had paid no attention to their catch for some time, and the crabs had pushed their way up from beneath the seaweed, and were crawling over the edge.
"Clap something on top of the basket!" cried Sammy. "Hand me that board, Frank."
"Can't! I've got troubles of my own! Ouch, let go, can't you!" he cried to the crab, which did not seem to want to do this.
"Wow! One's got me, too!" exclaimed Bob, turning quickly about.
"Smash him against the side of the boat!" advised Sammy to Frank, and, seeing this was good advice, the boy did so.
Crack went the hard crab against the gunwale, and the claw by which it had been clinging to Frank's toe came off. Crabs claws often come loose and new ones grow on again. So the creature was not much hurt.
"Whew! That's better!" gasped Frank, as he opened the nippers of the claw that still clung to his toe, in spite of the fact that it was severed from the body of the crab.
"Let go, can't you!" cried Bob, to the crab nipping him.
"Try Frank's trick," advised Sammy.
Bob did so, but the result was not exactly what was looked for.
The boy hit the crab, that had hold of his hand, such a blow against the side of the boat, that, losing his balance, Bob leaned too far over.
"Look out! You'll upset us!" cried Frank, who was nursing his nipped toe.
It was too late. The boat tilted, and, aided by the tide and the frantic efforts of the boys to prevent it, over went the craft, spilling out the three chums, crabs, and all. Then such confusion as there was!
Gasping and choking, from their sudden and unexpected bath, the boys came to the surface of the water. They were all good swimmers, and, fortunately had on only thin shirts and light trousers—almost bathing suits, in fact.
"Grab the oars!" called Sammy.
"And don't let the boat get away!" added Frank.
"There go the crabs!" shouted Bob, as he saw the basket containing their catch sail away on the tide, the crabs scrambling out, rejoicing in their unexpected liberty.
"Too late! We can't save 'em—have to catch some more!" called Bob. "Get the oars and the boat!"
"Going to right the boat?" asked Frank, as he swam to get a drifting oar.
"No, it's too much work here. Let's swim with her down to the lighthouse dock, pull her out there, and dump the water out. Then we can row home."
It was good advice; and the best and easiest thing to do. With the recovered oars, and their crab nets, the boys swam along toward shore, pushing the boat ahead of them. The water was not over their heads, and soon they could wade.
"Had an upset; didn't you?" called Mr. Floyd, the light-keeper, who was at the dock as the boys came along.
"Sort of," admitted Sammy, ruefully.
"Lost all our crabs, too," added Frank.
"Yes, and mother won't like it," put in Bob. "She was counting on 'em for salad for supper."
"Never mind, as long as you're all right," advised the light-keeper. "And as for crabs, I've been amusing myself catching a mess this morning. I've got more than I want, and I'll let you have some. Big ones they are, too. Where you been?"
They told him, and then, in a sudden burst of confidence, Sammy related about the strange old man, and told of how he had driven them away from his cottage.
Mr. Floyd chuckled, as he limped about on a cane, for he was able to be around now, though he could not go up and down the tower stairs.
"So you ran afoul of the professor; did you?" he asked with a laugh.
"Is that who he is—a professor?" asked Sammy eagerly. "What is he always digging for—pirate's gold?"
"Land love you, boy, I don't know; and no one else does, as far as I can learn," said Mr. Floyd. "He's been in these parts for some time now, but nobody knows what his game is. Digging; eh? Yes, he's always doing that."
"At night, too," said Sammy.
"Yes, night don't seem to make any difference to him," admitted the lighthouse-keeper. "He's a mighty queer man."
"What's his name?" asked Frank, binding a bit of his handkerchief about his crab-bitten toe, while he and the other boys sat in the warm sun on the dock, letting their clothes dry.
"Watson—Professor Watson he calls himself," said Mr. Floyd. "No one seems to know much about him. He doesn't mix with us folks much—lives all alone in that cabin."
"Do you really think he might be looking for the pirate gold?" asked Sammy eagerly.
"Well, he might be," admitted Mr. Floyd. "Lots of wiser folks, and some more foolish than he seems to be, have dug for it—but never found it. He might have the craze, too. But I wouldn't advise you boys to bother him too much."
"Is he dangerous?" asked Bob.
"No, I wouldn't go so far as to say that," replied the light-keeper, slowly. "But you know you have no right to go on his land, and he might have you arrested."
"Did he ever have anyone taken in?" Frank wanted to know.
"No, but he sued Nate Hardon, his next door neighbor, because Nate's dog dug up the garden. And the funny thing of it was that the professor didn't have anything planted in that garden, as far as any of us could find out. He just got provoked because Nate's dog dug some holes, and he sued Nate. He won his case, too, and got six cents damage."
"Six cents! Is that all?" asked Sammy, in surprise.
"Oh, he didn't want the money," explained the light-keeper. "He just wanted the courts to say that Nate's dog had no right in the garden, and it hadn't, I s'pose. Anyhow, Nate had to build his fence over.
"But the professor, as we call him, is sure a queer character. I don't know what he's after, but whatever it is he hasn't found it. We folks leave him alone, and I guess you boys had better, too."
"Did you see him around here that night, when the light went out?" asked Sammy.
"No, I didn't," answered Mr. Floyd, and Sammy did not say why he had asked.
The boys' clothing was nearly dry now, and, the water having been emptied from the boat, which was pulled up on the beach, the lads started for Barnacle Cottage.
They took with them some of the crabs Mr. Floyd gave them, so their accident did not prevent Mr. Bouncer from having a fine supper that night. The boys built a fire out of doors, and boiled the crabs, afterward picking the meat out of the shells.
Talk as they did over the queer encounter with Professor Watson they could not come to any understanding of what object he might have in digging in various places. Sammy still stuck to his idea about the buried gold, but his chums did not agree with him.
Vacation days at Lighthouse Cove were slipping by. Already about half the Summer was gone, and the boys were counting with regret on the time when they would have to go back to Fairview and to school.
They had more good times this Summer, so they said, than ever before. They went in swimming, rowed about in their boat, and caught so many fish and crabs that Mr. Bouncer said he could feel the salt water running out of his ears.
More visits were paid to the lighthouse, too, and the boys were always welcome there since they had done Mr. Floyd such a service. The light-keeper told them many fine stories.
At other times they went to the ocean beach, where the surf was heavier than in the cove near Barnacle Cottage. They were allowed to bathe in the shallow part of the ocean, near shore, but Mr. or Mrs. Bouncer kept sharp watch over them at such times.
The boys made many acquaintances among the fishermen and sailors who lived at the Cove, and were often taken out in the boats. Best of all they liked to go with Silas Warner, who had a large motor boat, one that was able to go through the inlet, and out to sea, when it was not too rough. Silas often went on long fishing trips, and when he only cruised about in the Cove Mrs. Bouncer allowed her son and his chums to go with him.
But she would never consent to their going out on the open ocean, though Silas often offered to take them. His boat, the Skip, had a cabin, and several persons could sleep aboard her.
"The ocean is too dangerous for the boys," said Mrs. Bouncer.
One day when Bob and his chums were down at Silas Warner's dock, watching him fix the engine in the Skip, he called to them:
"Want to come for a ride?"
"Sure. Where you going?" asked Bob.
"Oh, down by the bridge. I've got to get some supplies. I won't be very long."
The bridge was down near the inlet, where the ocean and cove met, surging their waters together over the sand bar. It was a fine, long trip.
"I guess we can go," said Bob, as he ran to ask his mother. She gave her permission, for the day was a fine, calm one, although hot, and she knew the boys would enjoy the trip on the water.
Soon, in the big motor boat, with Silas at the wheel, the boys started off in great delight. They waved good-bye to Mrs. Bouncer, who stood in the doorway of the cottage. Little did the boys think how much would happen before they saw her again.
CHAPTER X CARRIED OUT TO SEA
"May I steer a bit?" asked Bob, when he and his chums had ridden in the big motor boat some distance down the cove toward the bridge, that was not far from the inlet.
"I guess so," answered Silas. "There aren't many craft about now, and I don't believe you'll run into anybody."
"I wish I'd asked him," murmured Sammy to Frank. "But I didn't think he'd let us."
All the boys were eager to take the wheel.
"We can take turns," said Bob, generously. Now that he had permission to do what he had long been anxious to, he was not going to be selfish. "Can't we take turns, Silas?" he asked.
"Oh, I guess so," was the good-natured answer. "It'll be as good a time as any to give you boys some points on steering. No telling when you may have a boat of your own."
"I wanted my father to get one this year," said Bob, "only he said I was too young to run it, and he didn't have time. When I go back I'll tell him I can steer a boat, and maybe he'll get one."
"I hope he does!" cried Sammy, with visions of what fine fun he and his chums would have in a power boat of their own.
"Well, there's a heap sight more to learn about a motor boat than just steering it," said Silas, with a grin, "though maybe steering comes first. Now I'll show you what to do, and how to do it. Of course I can't show you all the different twists and turns of the channel now—it would take too long to learn them. But I can show you how to steer a boat, how to keep her straight, and how to go to port or starboard, or left and right, as they say now."
The three boys gathered about him as he sat at the wheel, which was made fast to a bulkhead, or partition just outside the cabin. The cabin of the Skip took up about half of the boat, the forward part. The after part was an open space, beneath the floor of which was the motor running in a sort of cockpit.
The motor was covered with a cover, or hatch, as it is called, and when this was in place you could not see the machinery, though it was running beneath your feet.
The cabin was of good size, and had small bunks in it that could be made up into beds. There were also lockers for food and water, and a small oil stove on which Silas cooked when he went off on fishing trips. In fact the Skip was a snug little craft.
"This wheel is what is called a sea wheel," went on Silas, beginning his steering lesson.
"Aren't all wheels sea wheels?" asked Bob.
"No, on some motor boats there are what are called land-lubber wheels."
"What's the difference?" asked Frank.
"It's easy to remember, once you've heard it," said Silas. "A land-lubber wheel turns in the same direction you want the boat to steer. For instance, if you want to go to the left you twist the wheel toward your left hand, and if you want to go to the right you twist it to the right.
"But a sea wheel is just the opposite from this. With that, if you want your boat to go to the left, you turn the wheel to the right, and if you want to go to the right you twist the wheel to the left."
"I should think you'd get all twisted up!" exclaimed Sammy.
"Well, you might, at first, but once you've learned to use a sea wheel you won't want any other," went on Silas. "I'm not saying but what it might not have been better at the start, for every boat to have a wheel you could turn in the direction you wanted to go, but as long as they have sea wheels you might as well learn that way. Now we'll begin."
In turn he let the boys handle the wheel, sending the boat this way and that, until they found how quickly the Skip responded to her rudder.
At first each of the lads got a little confused, and turned the wheel the wrong way. But soon they remembered, and when Silas, pretending he was the captain, ordered them to go to the right or left they did do it without any trouble.
They passed several other boats from time to time, and Silas showed how to get by them without getting too far out of the channel, or without passing too close to the other craft. There was a compressed air whistle on the Skip and the boys took great delight in blowing this.
"It's a heap more fun on a trip like this than trailing that queer old Professor Watson!" exclaimed Bob.
"That's right," said Frank. "I don't believe we'll bother with him any more."
"No, I guess I was wrong about that pirate gold," admitted Sammy, and his chums laughed, for this was the first time he had ever given up. But he was so interested in the motor boat that he thought of little else.
The trip to the bridge, just above the inlet, was rather a long one, but the boys enjoyed every bit of it, and they were sorry when the Skip pulled up to a dock, and Silas announced that he would stay there for some time, buying supplies for himself, and for a number of other fishermen, who had asked him to obtain things for them. There was a general store at the bridge—a store which supplied many sailors and fishermen with the things they needed for their work.
While waiting for Silas, the boys went ashore and wandered about the little settlement about the store. Finally the fisherman came out and said:
"Boys, I find I've got to go down near the inlet after some stuff. Now you said your folks didn't want you to go there, and I don't want to take you when Mrs. Bouncer said you weren't to go. So you'd better stay here until I come back. I won't be long."
"Oh, that's no fun!" exclaimed Bob.
"I wonder if we couldn't go," suggested Frank.
"There isn't any danger; is there?" asked Sammy.
"I don't think so," answered Silas, "but them women folks has their own opinions. I never go agin 'em."
The three chums were much disappointed, when Bob saw a telephone on the wall.
"That's the thing!" he cried. "I'm going to telephone my mother at the cottage, and ask her if we can't go. I'll tell her there's no danger."
"And you can tell her I said so," put in Silas, for he liked the Fairview boys, and wanted to give them the pleasures of the trip.
Bob was soon talking to his mother over the wire, and, after some hesitation, she said the boys might make the longer trip. And, on the suggestion of Silas, Bob said they would probably not be home for dinner, since it would be late.
"We'll just get a lunch on my boat," said Silas. "I've got plenty to eat, and a stove to cook it on."
"Oh, that will be fine!" cried Sammy, and the others agreed with him.
So it was arranged, and a little later the Skip went under the bridge, and pointed her bow toward the broader and deeper waters that led to the inlet.
It was about three miles to where the waters of the ocean and Cove met, and the channel was so twisting, on account of the shifting sands, that Silas did not like to let the boys steer. So he held the wheel himself.
From time to time, as the boat went on Silas would raise the hatch cover, and look at the throbbing motor, to see that it was running all right. Once in a while he would oil it. The boys looked on with interest when he did this, and asked many questions.
Silas explained how he had to spin the flywheel around to start the motor, and how he turned on the spark and gasolene. Sometimes, he said, the motor would start when the electric switch was closed, without the flywheel being turned by hand.
Now and then, as the Skip went along, Silas would look up at the sky, and shake his head as though in doubt.
"What's the matter?" asked Sammy, after a bit.
"I don't like the looks of the weather," was the answer. "It looks to me as though we were in for a heavy thunderstorm."
"They're not dangerous; are they?" asked Bob.
"Oh, well, not specially so. But down here, near the inlet, the wind sometimes blows pretty strong, and when the tide's running out, as it is now, there's a powerful current. I almost wish I hadn't brought you boys along."
"Oh, we're not afraid," said Frank with confidence. "The Skip is a good boat; isn't she?"
"There's none better afloat, for her size," said Silas proudly. "I've ridden out many a gale in her down in the big bay. But of course the ocean is different. However, I'll just hurry through and maybe we can get back before she blows too hard. I think we'll have a bite to eat now, for we may not get time later. Here, one of you boys take the wheel. There's a straight course now, and I'll get out the things and make some coffee."
This was soon done, and the boys sat about, eating the sandwiches Silas made. They were having the time of their lives, and the fact that in the West a big bank of black clouds was gathering, from which now and then lightning flashed, did not worry them. They were sure they would get back all right.
The boys sat about eating the sandwiches.
Silas had to stop at a small dock, not far from the inlet, where an old sailmaker had his shanty. The fisherman was to call for a sail for one of his neighbors.
Silas made fast the Skip in a hurry, and, leaping out on the dock, called to the boys:
"Wait here until I come back. I won't be long. Then we'll head for Lighthouse Cove."
"All right," answered Bob. "We'll be all right."
The darkness had increased because of the clouds, and now a strong wind sprang up. It whipped the waters of the channel into whitecaps, and this, with the strong tide that was running, made the Skip strain hard at her mooring rope.
The wind blew harder, and then with a sudden outbreak of fury the storm broke, the rain coming down in such torrents that the boys could not see the shanty of the sailmaker.
"Get in the cabin!" cried Sammy.
"That's right!" yelled Frank. "We'll be soaked here!"
They tumbled into the cabin, which was below the level of the cockpit deck, and pulled the sliding doors shut.
"Now we're all snug—let her rain!" cried Bob.
And rain it did. The pelting drops made so much noise on the cabin roof that the boys had to shout to make each other hear. The thunder was terrific, and the bright lightning cut through the blackness that was almost as dark as night.
"Say, this boat is bobbing some!" suddenly exclaimed Frank.
Indeed the Skip was in violent motion, and the boys did not know what to make of it. She swung about, and then brought up suddenly as the rope tightened.
Then, all at once, there was a violent jerk, and the boat swung about more than ever.
"I hope that rope holds!" cried Sammy.
"So do I!" exclaimed Bob. "What if it should break?"
Then the Skip seemed to swing entirely around, and a moment later she raced off through the storm, tossing violently up and down on the waves. The boys heard confused shouts above the noise of the storm.
"What is it?" cried Sammy.
"Something has happened!" yelled Frank.
"I'm going to have a look," said Bob resolutely, as he slid back one of the cabin doors. The burst of wind and rain in his face almost drove him within again, but he went out into the little open space.
Then his worst fears were realized. The Skip had broken away from her dock, and was racing before the wind and tide down the channel toward the inlet.
Bob could just make out, on the end of the dock, the figure of an excited man, waving his hands to him. But what he said could not be heard. Bob was sure the man was Silas.
"What is it—what's happened?" called Frank.
"We've broken loose!" shouted Bob, coming back into the cabin. Even in those few seconds he had been drenched with the rain.
"Broken loose from where?" asked Sammy.
"From the dock. We're adrift!"
"Adrift! Where are we going?" gasped Sammy and Frank together.
"We're being carried out to sea, I guess," answered Bob, and there was fear in his voice, much as he tried to hide it.
Meanwhile the Skip, at the mercy of the wind and tide, was being carried faster and faster out toward the inlet that led to the great ocean.
CHAPTER XI IN THE STORM
Despairingly the boys, shut up in the cabin of the Skip, looked at one another. They had to cling to the bunks and the sides of the bulkheads in order not to be thrown down, so violent was the motion of the craft. Sometimes the boat would whirl completely around, and after this had happened several times Bob cried:
"Fellows, there's only one thing to do!"
"What's that?" asked Sammy. "Can we do anything?"
"We've just got to," said Frank. "If we don't we'll sink pretty soon, and be drowned. I think I know what you mean, Bob. You mean we've got to steer the boat?"
"That's it! She's going every which way now, and there's no telling what may happen. If we can get at the wheel we may be able to send her ashore."
"But the wheel is outside!" cried Sammy. "We can't go out in this storm to steer."
"Oh, yes we can, if we had to," said Bob. "But we don't have to. There's another wheel inside the cabin, you know."
And so there was, Silas having arranged this for his own comfort in stormy weather. The Skip could be guided either by the wheel outside in what might be called the cockpit, or from within the cabin. And in the cabin, up forward, were small windows, or bull's-eyes, through which the steersman could look.
"If we could only start the motor we could turn around and go back," suggested Frank, while they were trying to make their way up front, to the wheel, without banging against the sides of the cabin.
"Oh, we'd better not try to monkey with that—especially in this storm," said Bob. "If we can only keep the boat straight ahead, so it won't whirl around so, and make us dizzy, it will be a good thing. After the storm we can try the motor."
"But by that time we will be out to sea!" cried Sammy.
"We can't help it," came from Bob. "Here goes now, to see what sort of a course I can steer."
The wheel was twisting and turning this way and that as the waves moved the rudder. Bob turned the spokes until he had the one with ring marks on it exactly upright in front of him. When this had been done, Silas had told them, the rudder was straight, and the boat would go straight ahead.
And, as Bob looked from the bull's-eye, he saw nothing ahead but a straight course of water. The waves had been whipped into whitecaps of foam, but there seemed no obstruction, and with the wind blowing them, and the tide carrying them, all the Fairview boys could do was to keep on.
"It sure is some storm!" murmured Frank, as a louder clash of thunder than any before seemed to shake the very boat.
"And we're in it!" murmured Sammy. "What will our folks think?"
"Oh, Silas will tell them," said Bob, as he braced his feet apart to meet the heaving motion of the boat.
"Yes, he's left behind there on the dock," said Frank. "Our rope must have broke when the wind and waves banged us about that time. He'll tell the folks all right."
"But that won't stop mother from worrying," said Bob, anxiously, for he disliked to cause her or his father anxiety.
"They'll come after us," remarked Sammy. "Silas will get another boat and come for us."
"If he can find us," spoke Bob. "But if we go out to sea I don't believe he can easily pick us up."
"Oh, he will, sooner or later," went on Frank, who did not seem to feel so badly about it as Bob did. "Don't get scared."
"Oh, I'm not exactly scared," replied Bob, stoutly, "for this is a good boat. But a storm at sea is no fun!"
"Maybe it isn't storming out there," suggested Sammy.
"It's sure to be," declared Bob. "But we've got to make the best of it. We've got plenty to eat, that's one good thing."
"And a good place to stay," added Frank. "We're better off than when the Puff was wrecked."
"But we may be wrecked yet," put in Bob.
"Oh, cheer up!" advised Sammy. "We'll be laughing at this in a few hours."
"But how dark it is!" said Bob. "It's almost like night!"
"We've got lanterns here," suggested Frank. "Why not light them? And it might be good to show a light outside, so no other boat will run into us."
"Let's do it!" cried Bob. "I'll steer and you fellows can light up. There are some oilskin suits in one of the lockers, Silas said. You can put one on when you go outside."
The lighting of the lanterns made the boys feel less gloomy, and when Frank and Sammy, putting on the yellow oilskin coats, went outside and hung lanterns there, the boat was in less danger of collision.
"Say, we must be almost to the ocean," cried Frank, as he and Sammy came into the cabin again.
"What makes you think so?" asked Bob.
"Because I can hear the booming of the surf. We'll be out on it in a little while."
"Well, we can't help it," said Bob. "I thought we were there long ago, the way we bobbed up and down."
"Yes, it is rough," said Sammy. "We must be almost in the inlet, fellows. Silas said it was always dangerous to go through there."
"But not so bad on the out-going tide," spoke Bob, quickly, and he was glad he had remembered that point. "I guess we'll make it all right," he added, hopefully.
The storm did not grow less. The lightning still flashed and the thunder rolled, while the rain came down in torrents. The cockpit was fitted with scuppers, or openings that allowed the water to run off, or otherwise the Skip would have been flooded. As it was, some water came into the cabin under the doors. But the boys did not mind this.
Had the motor been running they would have reached the inlet, and gone through it into the open sea, some time before. But as it was they were only blowing and drifting along.
"Well, there's no use staying this way," said Frank, after a bit, as he felt of his wet clothes. "I'm going to take off some of them and get dry. We can light the oil stove."
"And get something to eat," added Sammy.
Somehow or other this idea seemed to make all the boys feel better. The stove was soon glowing and the cabin was cozy and warm. Indeed, but for the fact that they were storm-driven out to sea, and were so alarmed, the boys would have enjoyed the adventure.
They took off some of their wet garments, and hung them near the oil stove to get dry. There were blankets in the bunks, and in these they wrapped themselves up. Frank put some coffee on the stove to warm, though the boys, as a rule did not take this beverage. Still they thought it might prevent their taking cold.
Little could now be seen outside, for to the darkness of the storm was added the gloom of coming night. The boys were anxious as to what Mrs. Bouncer might think, and they did not know what would be the outcome of this drifting into the ocean. But they could do nothing except what they were doing.
They could only hope for rescue.
The boys were taking their coffee, and eating some of the sandwiches Silas had made, when suddenly the boat was tossed about more violently than ever before. She rose up, with her bow high in the air, and things in the cabin slid toward the stern. Then the bow went down and the stern rose up.
"What's happening?" cried Frank.
"Listen!" exclaimed Bob.
"That's the surf!" called Sammy. "We're going through the inlet into the ocean!"
There was a terrific crash of thunder, and a brilliant flash of lightning. Looking through the bull's-eyes Bob could see the heaving billows. Then, as the Skip ceased her violent motions, and began to move regularly up and down, Bob cried:
"We're out to sea, boys! Think of it! Out on the ocean!"
CHAPTER XII DRIFTING
Somehow, in spite of the fact that they tried to be brave, and to meet the danger with as stout hearts as possible, the Fairview boys could not repress a feeling of fear as the meaning of Bob's words came to them. And the speaker himself shuddered a little as he looked out on the heaving waters of the ocean, as the lightning made them plain to him.
"Well, there's one good thing," said Frank, taking a long breath, "we're not so likely to run into anything out here as we were in the cove or inlet."
"No, that's so," agreed Bob. "But the ocean is an awfully big place to be out on—in a small boat."
"This isn't such a small boat," said Sammy, quickly. "It's better to be in this than in our rowboat."
"Indeed it is!" said Frank. "Maybe we'll be all right by morning."
"That's so—we will have to stay out here all night, I guess," said Bob, ruefully. "There'll be no chance of being picked up until daylight, I reckon."
"If we're picked up then we'll be lucky," added Sammy. "This is different from Rainbow Lake and Pine Island. It's so much larger."
"But some ship might see our lights, and come for us," suggested Frank.
Bob shook his head.
"I was talking to Silas about that the other day," he said. "No ships come as close in shore as this. Some trawlers, that catch moss-bunker fish for fertilizer, do, in the daytime, to let down their nets, but not at night."
"Then what chance have we of being rescued?" asked Sammy.
"Oh, I guess we've as good a chance as any fellows would have who had this happen to them," went on Bob. "In the morning the chances are some ship will see us. We can make some sort of flag, for a distress signal, I think. If we knew how we might fix our lanterns now, to show that we needed help. But I don't know how to do it."
Neither did the other boys, so it was decided to wait until morning. Besides, none of them cared to go outside in the rain and darkness, now that they were on the open ocean. It gave them a sort of "scary" feeling. They did not say so, but they were a bit afraid, as they admitted afterward, of falling overboard.
The wind and rain still kept up, but the thunder and lightning were not so bad, and for this they were glad. Then, too, they were not tossed about so violently as they had been while in the waters of the Cove and the inlet.
There the shallow waters were more quickly disturbed by the wind, while the deeper sea took longer to raise large waves.
But, for all that, the Skip swayed and rocked in the grip of the storm, for she was but a small boat to be on such broad waters. In the hands of Silas Warner she might have ridden more easily, for her owner would have known how to steer her.
Then, too, he would have started the motor, and he could have kept her head to the wind and waves, and this is always wise in a storm.
But the boys could only let her drift, and this meant that at times the craft would dip down into the trough of the sea, sinking with a motion that made the lads feel as though their stomachs were going to drop out.
Fortunately they were not seasick, for they were too used to the water at home, and had been in some rough weather before. So they were accustomed to the irregular motion. But it was not the more pleasant on this account.
Again the Skip would be blown around with her head to the wind and waves, and at such times she would rise on the crest of a big roller until, it seemed to the boys, as if she were going to shoot toward the sky.
Then the boat would slip down on the other side of the big hill of water like a sled coasting down a snowy incline and the boys would look at each other as though they feared they were going to the bottom of the sea.
But always the stanch little Skip would come up again.
"She sure is a dandy boat!" exclaimed Bob, and the others agreed with him.
It was now about eight o'clock and quite dark. The storm still rumbled and rolled about the boys, but they were getting used to it now.
"It's dying out," said Frank, as he put on some of his clothes that had dried by the oil stove.
"Yes, by morning it will be calm again," said Sammy.
"If we could only get home by morning," spoke Bob, a bit sadly, and, in spite of his resolution to be brave, he could not keep a few tears from his eyes as he thought of his mother, who, he knew, would be frantic about him.
"Don't worry," said Frank, soothingly, for he guessed of what Bob was thinking. "Silas will go there and tell your folks all about it, Bob. Then he'll organize a searching party, and come after us in a big boat."
"Yes, if he can find us," said Bob, gloomily.
"Oh, sure he can find us!" exclaimed Sammy.
There was silence for a while, with the Skip drifting on in the storm and darkness. Occasionally a bigger wave than usual would break over the high bow, and come crashing down on the roof of the cabin. At times the weight of water was so heavy that the boys feared the roof would be crushed in, but the Skip was made to stand hard knocks, and well she did it.
"Well, what are we going to do?" asked Sammy, after a bit. The boys had put on their clothing, which was warm and dry, and they were sitting about the cabin, looking at one another, and wondering what would happen next.
"What can we do?" asked Bob. "We can only drift, until morning."
"Then I say let's go to bed," proposed Frank. "We can't do any good by sitting up, and maybe we can get some rest."
"But supposing some vessel runs us down in the night?" suggested Bob.
"That isn't likely to happen with our lights burning. Besides, staying awake won't stop that."
The boys were tired enough to turn in and stretch out on the bunks, though possibly they were too alarmed and excited to sleep. As Frank had said, their outside lights, the red and green and white, were glowing, and any vessel, seeing them, would not run them down.
"I say let's try something before we go to bed," said Bob.
"Try what?" asked Frank.
"Try to make someone hear us. Let's go outside and blow the air whistle and yell. Maybe some passing ship may hear us and take us on board."
"That's a good idea!" exclaimed Sammy. "We'd better go out anyhow, and look to see if the lanterns are all right. We wouldn't want them to go out in the night."
It was still raining, but not so hard, and, putting on the suits of oilskins, the three chums made their way out to the open deck of the Skip, behind the cabin bulkhead.
Here they felt the full force of the wind, and the rain stung into their faces. Also they felt the salty spray of the ocean as it blew over the bow. All about them they could see the white-topped billows, and they looked larger than they had from the cabin. Still the Skip seemed to ride them well.
A glance showed the boys that the lights were all right. They were full of oil—Silas had told them he always kept them ready for instant use.
"Now for a yell!" called Sammy, and the boys called together.
Several times they did this, at the same time blowing the compressed air whistle. But there came no answer, nor could they see the lights of any passing ship. They appeared to be alone on the ocean in the storm and darkness.
They appeared to be alone on the ocean.
"It's no use," said Bob, sadly.
"No, let's go inside," suggested Frank.
"Besides, we want to save some of the air in the tank to blow the whistle to-morrow," went on Sammy. "We can compress the air only when the motor is running, and we can't start that."
"Maybe we can," suggested Bob. "I'm going to have a try at that in the morning, if we aren't picked up before."
"Maybe it will start by just turning the switch. Silas said it did, sometimes," spoke Frank.
"Well, don't try it now," exclaimed Bob, quickly. "We don't want to get it going when we don't know which way to steer. Let's wait."
And wait they did.
Into the cabin they went again, out of the wind and rain. The shelter seemed a cozy place in contrast to the blackness outside.
"Didn't it all happen suddenly?" remarked Bob. "One minute we were at the dock, waiting for Silas to come back, and then, all at once, the storm came up, we broke loose, and had started to drift. It all seems like a dream."
"I wish it was a dream," murmured Frank, "and that we'd wake up in Barnacle Cottage."
"I wonder if anyone could have cut or loosened our rope," spoke Sammy, as though he were thinking of something.
"What makes you say that?" asked Frank quickly. "The rope broke—that's what happened."
"I don't know about that," went on Sammy, mysteriously. "If a person had been on that dock, and saw the boat tied there, it would be very easy to slip the rope off the post."
"Yes, that's true enough," admitted Frank. "But who would do such a mean thing as that; especially when a storm was coming up, and we would be in danger? Who would do such a thing?"
"Well, the queer old professor who drove us away," answered Sammy.
"There! I knew he was going to say that!" cried Bob.
"Oh, well, of course I'm not saying for sure," spoke Sammy, quickly. "But it might have happened. If that old man had been around he might have thought that was a good chance to get rid of us, so we wouldn't bother him again."
"Well, that's all foolishness!" exclaimed Bob. "And, even if he did it, I'm not going to bother him again, anyhow."
"I am!" declared Sammy. "I'm going to find out what he knows about pirate gold!"
Frank and Bob laughed at him, but Sammy was very much in earnest.
On and on drifted the Skip, driven by wind and tide. The night wore on, and the boys, unable to stay up any longer, went to the bunks to rest, lashing the steering wheel to keep the rudder straight. They did not know where they were going. They only knew they were drifting.
The rain did not come down so hard now, and the wind had slackened. Only once in a while did it lighten and thunder.
It must have been near morning, for a faint, hazy light was coming in through the bull's-eyes windows, when Sammy was suddenly awakened in his bunk by feeling a shock. He jumped out into the middle of the cabin, crying:
"Fellows, we struck something! Maybe we've gone ashore!"
CHAPTER XIII THE ABANDONED BOAT
Bob and Frank were so surprised by Sammy's sudden call that they could only stare stupidly at him, and try to rub some of the sleepy feeling from their eyes. Then, as the bumping and grinding sound still kept up, Sammy cried again:
"Fellows, we sure have struck something. Maybe we're at a dock! Oh, I hope so! I guess our voyage has ended!"
"Good!" cried Bob.
Frank went to the forward bull's-eyes and looked out. It was getting daylight.
"You've got another guess coming, Sammy," he said. "We're still out on the ocean, it looks to me. We couldn't be at a dock and be moving this way."
The motor boat in which they had so strangely been blown to sea was still heaving up and down, though by the silence outside the boys realized that the storm was over.
"Well, we're certainly up against something," insisted Sammy. "Listen to it bump!"
There was no doubt about this. The motor boat was grinding and bumping up against some object it had collided with on the ocean. And still the boys, from the cabin windows, could see nothing.
"Maybe," began Sammy, as his eyes grew big with wonder, "maybe it's a whale!"
"A whale!" cried Bob. "Listen to him, would you! That's as bad as the pirate gold."
"It sure is," agreed Frank, as he began to dress.
"Pooh!" exclaimed Sammy. "It might happen just the same, and if we find a dead whale outside you fellows won't be so ready to laugh!"
"Oh, a dead whale—maybe yes," agreed Bob, for more than once Sammy had been right in his queer guesses, though a number of his wild dreams of sensational things had not proved to be true.
"Yes, or a live whale either," went on Sammy, who was following Frank's example in getting into his clothes, as was Bob. "Didn't you ever read of whales scraping themselves against ships to get the barnacles off 'em."
"Off the ships?" asked Frank, with a smile.
"No, off the whales themselves. Anyway, I think it's barnacles. It's some kind of stuff that grows on a whale and he doesn't like it, so he scrapes it off whenever he can. Sometimes he scrapes up against a ship, and maybe that's what's happened now."
"Well, we can soon see," spoke Frank. "But if it is a whale I hope he doesn't scrape too hard. He might upset this boat."
"Well, we lived through one night, adrift on the ocean," remarked Sammy, as he finished dressing. "Now we'll see what it's like outside."
"It's stopped raining, anyhow," went on Frank. "The storm is over."
"I'm glad of it," remarked Bob. "Now we can eat breakfast without spilling things in our laps."
"That's right—it is time to eat," added Sammy.
"But first let's see what we're bumping into, or what's bumping us," suggested Frank.
The boys were feeling much better now. They had been rested and calmed by their night's rest, and they had slept more soundly than they knew, for they were tired out. Sleep was the best thing for them, as it kept them from worrying.
And they had good cause for worry. Three small boys, who knew little if anything of managing a motor boat, were adrift in one on the big ocean. The only wonder is that they were as brave as they were.
"I wonder what mom thinks?" said Bob, as he slid back the bolt of the cabin door.
"She couldn't help worrying—I know mine would," spoke Sammy. "But I think we'll be rescued to-day. Silas is most likely out looking for us with some of his sailor friends."
"Well, I hope he finds us soon," remarked Frank. "It's all right in books, to read about being adrift at sea, but It isn't so much fun when it comes to you. I'd rather be in Lighthouse Cove."
"So would I!" cried his two chums.
The three Fairview boys went out on the open deck of the Skip, and, as they emerged from the cabin a cry of surprise came from all of them. For the motor boat's stern was bumping and rubbing up against the side of a small two-master schooner, which, with some sails set, was drifting about on the ocean, abandoned, and seemingly as much at the mercy of the wind and waves as was the Skip herself.
"Would you look at that!" cried Sammy.
"A ship!" gasped Bob.
"And that's your whale!" went on Frank. "Say, how did this happen?"
None of the boys could answer. They looked off across a waste of waters. Not another craft was in sight, and they could not see land. The sun came up, seemingly out of the ocean itself, with the promise of a fair, hot day. And those two vessels—the motor boat and the schooner had, somehow, drifted together.
That was the noise which had awakened Sammy—the gentle collision of the craft in the ocean. Had this happened when the storm was at its height the smaller boat might have been sunk. But the storm had passed, and the ocean only rose and fell in a gentle swell.
"What brought the two together?" asked Bob.
"The wind and the tide, I guess," said Frank. Later he learned that objects in water have a sort of attraction for one another, as pieces of metal are attracted to a magnet.
If you will take a basin of water, and scatter some pieces of wood or cork on top, and then take care not to move or stir the water, you will find, in a few minutes, that the pieces have drawn themselves together. Sometimes only one or two will do this, and again the whole number will form a mass to float about.
It is this which causes masses of driftwood to float in the form of miniature rafts, and some scientists claim that often ships, which are not under their own power, are thus drawn together in a collision. Some even go so far as to say that a big war vessel, for instance, even in motion, will draw another vessel, also in motion, toward it. And not long ago a collision of a British warship and a merchant vessel was said to be due to this cause.
But the boys did not stop to think of that then—indeed they had heard nothing of it.
All they knew was that their motor boat was up against a much larger and more substantial vessel, and they were glad of this, for they felt, in case of a storm, that they could take refuge on the big schooner.
"How do you s'pose it happened that she got here?" asked Sammy, motioning toward the ship.
"Is there anybody aboard?" was Bob's question.
"Let's go and see," suggested Frank, and this seemed most practical of all.
It was easy to board the schooner from the rail of the motor boat, as several ropes hung over the side of the larger craft, by means of which the boys could pull themselves up.
"And we'd better do it while we're together," went on Frank. "If we drift apart we might not be able to get together again."
"First let's yell, and see if there's anybody there," suggested Sammy. "They may all be asleep, and might not like it if we went aboard."
"Not very likely that they're asleep," said Frank. "Someone would be on the lookout, anyhow. And there'd be a man steering, with the sails set as they are."
Two of the sails were indeed set, but the main sheets, or ropes, were loose, and the boom swung back and forth with the motion of the vessel, so that, even had the wind been blowing, she would have made little headway. But it was now a dead calm.
"Come on—yell!" suggested Sammy, and the three boys raised their voices in a shout. They waited a moment to see if they would get an answer, but none came.
"Come on—let's go aboard!" cried Frank, as he made for the rail, to reach a dangling rope.
"Wait!" suggested Bob. "Let's tie this motor boat fast, first. We may want to come back in her again."