Motor Boat Boys Down the Coast Part 6

"I was just thinking the other way," spoke up Jack.

"Eh? What makes you tell us that, after hearing what those oystermen said about the danger we'd run, if we were caught in the big bay in a storm?" asked George; for his narrow-beam boat always threatened to turn turtle when the waves were very boisterous, and it kept him guessing continually.

"Oh! well, I may be wrong; but I didn't altogether like the looks of those mottled clouds as the sun was coming up," Jack remarked.

"And it was red, too, which I understand is always a bad sign," Nick put in. "If we could only get another lot of sh.e.l.l fish, I'd vote to stay right here for the day. Perhaps things would pick up by tomorrow."

"Rats! Who's afraid?" laughed Josh, who knew he was sure of lots of comfort aboard the roomy boat belonging to Herb.

It was, however, put to a vote, because Jack believed in majority ruling in matters affecting the whole crowd. Nick himself voted in favor of going on. Whether he did this because he was ashamed to show the white feather, or from fear lest they might not be able to secure a further supply of oysters, none of them ever really knew. But the motion to continue the cruise was carried unanimously.

As they issued forth from the creek they found that the river seemed much wider than they had believed it to be. And apparently it would keep on that way, with the sh.o.r.es drawing further apart, until they found themselves on Delaware Bay, which in parts, Jack understood, to be something like twenty-five miles from side to side, an ocean in fact, for such small craft.

"We must have been camping in Delaware last night, eh, Jack?" called out Herb, as the three boats ran along side by side, even George curbing his propensity for rushing ahead.

"Sure we did," spoke up George. "I found out on the chart where we stopped. Look away over there in Jersey, and you'll see a cloud of smoke hovering over Salem. How about that, Jack; am I correct?"

"That's Salem, all right; and we've got to start at a better pace than this if we hope to get anywhere before night. Hit her up, George, and we'll do the best we can to follow," Jack answered.

This pleased the jaunty skipper of the _Wireless_ first-rate. He always liked to lead the procession, and set the pace for the rest.

So, as the morning wore on, they made good progress. Of course the others were compelled to tone down their speed to suit the pace of the old _Comfort_, that just wallowed along in what George called a "good natured way." Boat and skipper were very much alike; but then that similarity also applied in the cases of George and his speed boat; yes, and with regard to Jack, too, who united the good qualities of both other skippers, as his craft did those of stability and speed.

At noon they ate a lunch while still booming along; for Jack had discovered a bank of clouds coming up in the west that he did not just fancy, and hoped to make a certain point before the storm, if such there was in store for them, should break.

"What's this mean, Jack?" asked George, a couple of hours later, falling back somewhat so that he might exchange words with the others.

"Yes," said Herb at that; "it's getting as dark as the mischief. Guess we're going to have that storm Jack prophesied this morning, fellows."

"Say, perhaps I'd better be shooting ahead, then," suggested George, uneasily. "You know this cranky boat of mine isn't the nicest thing going, to be in when the waves are rolling ten feet high. And it's so wide here, they'll beat that, in a pinch."

"What would you be after going ahead for, then?" asked Jimmy.

"So as to get to that creek with the lovely name we talked about,"

George replied, looking troubled, nevertheless. "I noted its position on the chart, and think I might find it."

"But if the storm caught you beforehand, you'd be in a bad pickle, George!" declared Jack, soberly. "No, better all keep together. Then, if an accident happens, there's some chance for the others lending a helping hand. But we'll head in more toward the Delaware side, though if the wind strikes us from the east it'll be a bad place to be caught on a lee sh.o.r.e."

Nothing more was said just then. They changed their course somewhat, and the three little motor boats continued to push steadily forward.

Meanwhile the gloom seemed to gather around them, until even stout-hearted Jack shuddered a little as he surveyed the wide stretch of waters that had begun to tumble in the freshening wind, and thought what might happen if they could find no harbor, with a fierce late equinoctial gale sweeping across the dangerous bay.

CHAPTER VI.

A CLOSE SHAVE, BUT NO DAMAGE DONE.

"See any signs of a harbor, Jack?"

It was Nick who called this out, as he watched the skipper of the _Tramp_ swing the pair of binoculars he was handling along the sh.o.r.e ahead, while Jimmy had the wheel.

"Not that I could say for certain," replied the other, lowering the gla.s.ses for a minute in order to rest his strained eyes. "I was trying to get our bearings; and from several things about the sh.o.r.e, that resemble the line of the chart, I begin to believe I know where we are."

"Not near that awful Murderkill Creek, I hope?" spoke up Nick, shuddering.

"What's the matter with you?" called George. "Any port in a storm, say I; and even if it happened to be Slaughter Creek, which I believe lies further on toward Lewes, I'd grab it in a hurry, if it came along.

Don't you go to saying a single word against that sweet harbor. We'll rename it Paradise Creek, if only it serves us this day."

As it was getting darker all the time, no wonder George had begun to feel nervous. Even though he saved himself, and Nick, should he lose his boat, it would almost break his heart; for in spite of her many and serious faults the jaunty skipper of the erratic _Wireless_ fairly loved the craft.

"Yes, we are not many miles above Murderkill; and that or Jones Creek will have to be our destination; for we must have pa.s.sed the Dona opening by mistake. But perhaps the storm will kindly hold off until we're all snug in a harbor."

While Jack said this, in order to buoy up the downcast chums, deep down in his heart he believed that they were bound to be caught out on that wide stretch of water, and have a fight for their lives, particularly those who were manipulating the tricky speed boat.

But it was useless to ask George to come aboard the _Comfort_, and try to tow his craft. That would seem too ign.o.ble, worse than having a farm wagon drag the broken-down bubble wagon into town, in fact.

They had gone in as near the western sh.o.r.e as prudence dictated. Jack told everybody to be on the lookout for the first sign of an opening.

Beggars could not be choosers, and only too gladly would they welcome any port, however ill-named or hard looking.

"She's coming, all right," declared Jimmy, as he crouched there, his hair blowing in the rising wind, and his eyes taking in every sign of approaching trouble.

"Yes, and I'm sorry to say from the one bad quarter, the southeast,"

Jack made out to answer, between his set teeth. "If it had only been west, now, we'd have had the shelter of the land, and could have crept along nicely until we got where we wanted to go."

The waves were surely increasing in size, and the small craft began to heave in a very suggestive way. When they grew still larger, under the influence of the rising wind, Jack expected that with the pa.s.sing of each billow the screw would flash out of water. That was the time to be dreaded; for as resistance suddenly ceased with the pa.s.sage of the wave, the screw would revolve at lightning speed, and something was apt to go wrong.

Let an accident occur when in such a bad predicament, and it would be all over with the unlucky mariners who chanced to be on the disabled boat.

"Be mighty careful, Herb and George," he called to the others. "Watch each billow, and slow the engine before the screw is exposed. You know what I mean. You've both done the same trick before."

Constant vigilance was to be the price of safety from this moment on.

Nothing must distract the attention of those who manipulated the motors of the three boats caught in this sea in a storm.

Of course, George was accustomed to handling his narrow craft. Few amateurs could have done better than the present skipper. He knew her good qualities to a fraction, and was also acquainted with the bad ones. Consequently, he was aware just how far he could allow her quarter to face the sweep of wind and waves, without being thrown on her beam-ends.

It was a ticklish business, very much like managing a treacherous mule, loaded with kicks and bites at both ends. One little error of judgment, and the result would be a spill that must toss the occupants into the raging waters.

Jack had insisted that the owner of the _Wireless_ provide himself with life preservers; each boat carried a couple, but in the case of George and Nick, four had not been deemed too many.

Acting on the advice of Jack, George had fastened one of the cork jackets on himself before the storm really broke; because afterwards he would have no time to spare in attempting such a thing.

Nick had gone him one better; and seemed to be of huge proportions as he crouched there, waiting for the worst to happen. He had also secured his old White Wings, which had figured quite largely in previous cruises, to his shoulders, as if he hoped and believed that the bags filled with air would be of considerable a.s.sistance in keeping him afloat.

Altogether Nick looked next door to a freak escaped from some side show connected with a Barnum and Bailey's circus. Jack often remembered the sight with more or less inward laughter. But it was no time for merriment now, with that wind growing in violence, and the waves a.s.suming a most threatening appearance.

The minutes seemed like hours, so intense was the strain that held them in its terrible grip. Jack had a double duty to perform, watching those onsweeping waves, and at the same time keeping the sh.o.r.e under a close supervision, so that he might discover when they came opposite the mouth of a creek.

Such a place might be so narrow as to pa.s.s unnoticed unless one had exceedingly keen eyes; and, moreover, kept up an unremitting watch.