Motor Boat Boys Down the Coast; or, Through Storm and Stress to Florida

"And ye put that packet in the inside pocket, beca'se I saw ye," Jimmy went on.

"Yes, I did," Jack chuckled; "but then none of you saw me take it out again later and stow it in another place. You see, I seemed to have an idea my coat might get lost, because half the time I have it off."

"Then the packet is, – where?" asked George, brightening up.

"Down in the bottom of my fishing tackle box at this very minute, and not in the stomach of a Watchapreague shark!" declared Jack, confidently.

"Hurrah! Count another for our wise ould chum, Jack. He's got the long head, so he has. Let's have a squint at the documint again, now. 'Twould be good for sore eyes to glimpse the same!" Jimmy declared, enthusiastically.

So Jack had to get out his fishing tackle box, and, dipping down into its depths, produce the valuable packet.

After that, preparations for supper were allowed to go on apace. As for the missing coat, Jack declared that it did not amount to much, anyhow, as he had another handy. And besides, with a sweater to fall back upon in case of cold occasions, he had no regrets.

"I wonder will we really find this party, when we get around Beaufort?" Herb remarked, as they sat there, watching Josh wrestle with the broken crackers which, with the large pan of oysters, were to form the mess which, cooked as best they could over the red coals of the fire, would form the main part of the meal.

"We will, if anybody can," replied Jack, with determination in his manner.

"You just bet we will," affirmed Nick, showing unexpected interest in the idea.

The fact was, despite the many raw oysters he had swallowed, Nick was almost famished, and was trying the best he knew how to keep his attention from the slow preparations being made for supper.

But all in good time the meal was pronounced ready. Josh, in lieu of an oven in which to bake his scalloped oysters, had kept the pan on the fire, with a cover over the top; and really it had been pretty well browned.

They pronounced it simply delicious. Nick softened toward his ancient tormentor, Josh, and, patting him on the back, declared that when it came to cooking he had them all "beaten to a frazzle."

"What's that light away off there to the south, Jack?" asked Herb, after they had eaten to a standstill.

"I rather fancy that must be the Hog Island Light," replied the other. "Before we make that, we have to cross another inlet, this time over a mile wide; but they say Little Machipongo isn't in the same class as that last one, for danger and ugly currents."

"Gee! I hope not," grumbled Nick, who was scraping the pan in which the oysters had been cooked so beautifully.

"Then comes Great Machipongo Inlet, and a few more for tomorrow, after which we are due to reach Cape Charles," Jack went on, always ready to impart information when he saw that his chums wanted to know anything.

"This whole coast seems to be a series of bays and sounds, connected by little creeks and channels that, at flood time, can be safely navigated by a boat that don't happen to draw many feet of water," Herb remarked.

"Yes, and that is the case pretty near all the way from New York to the lower end of Florida," Jack observed. "Some day it's going to be possible to make the entire trip as easy as falling off a log. The Government is doing a heap of dredging in lots of places."

"Yes," remarked George, sarcastically; "if they'd only put some of the millions in here that they squander on good-for-nothing creeks in the backwoods, it'd be done in no time."

"Huh!" grunted Nick, "I'd just like to have the fat contract for dredging out some of these muddy creeks. Say, mebbe a fellow wouldn't get rich on the job, eh? I think I'll have to mention it to my dad, for he's keen on contracts, you know."

They passed a pleasant evening. Jimmy was easily induced to get out his banjo and give them many brisk tunes that seemed to just go with the plunkety-plunk of the joyous instrument.

"Seems like a banjo just chimes in with Southern scenes," remarked Herb.

"Oh! shucks! this ain't the Sunny South yet awhile, Herb," laughed Josh. "Wait till we get down in South Carolina, anyhow, where we'll run across some palmetto trees. That gives the real tropical flavor."

"If there were only some monkeys frisking about in the feathery tops, it'd add a heap to it, in my opinion," remarked Nick.

"Or a few coy mermaids," laughed Jack; "but then our friend here wouldn't find it quite so easy to climb to the top of a palmetto as to tumble overboard."

"Let up on that, won't you, Jack? It's mean, rubbing it in so hard," complained the object of the roar that followed.

In this way, then, the evening passed. As the mosquitoes began to get in their work later, the boys changed their minds, and concluded to sleep aboard, instead of on shore, as they had at first intended.

With the morning, things began to happen again. Breakfast was eaten first, and then Jack, who had been assisting George examine his motor, discovered the cause of the unfortunate stop, so that the freakish engine was now apparently all right again.

They crossed both the Machipongo Inlets without any accident, though it was evident that the skipper of the Wireless was more or less nervous, and kept hovering close to the other boats, with an eye on the ropes which they kept coiled in the stern.

And Nick also crouched down in the body of the boat, gripping some substantial part of the framework, with the grim air of one who had determined not to be pitched out into the water again, come what would.

Both heaved plain sighs of relief when the crossings were made without the least trouble. Cobb's Island now lay close by, and beyond were several more openings, where the sea connected with the shore waters. But these were small compared with those already navigated, and with a fair amount of caution they had no need to borrow trouble longer.

"There's what we're aiming to reach by evening, fellows!" remarked Jack, about the middle of the afternoon.

Following the direction in which his extended hand pointed, the others could see a lighthouse not a great way ahead, though it might take some time to reach it by way of winding connecting creeks.

"The great Cape Charles Light, ain't it, Jack?" demanded Herb.

"Just what it is," replied the commodore.

"Then, tomorrow we'll have to cross the mouth of the Chesapeake and arrive at Norfolk or Portsmouth; is that the programme?" asked George.

"If everything looks good to us, yes," replied Jack, seriously. "We want to take as few chances, you know, as we must. And that twenty miles is a big trip for our little craft. All depends on the wind and the sky. But there are always lots of boats around here; and if we got in a peck of trouble they'd help us out."

"That's a comfort," remarked Nick. "It was bad enough dropping overboard in that inlet, and I don't hanker to try it in the ocean itself. Excuse me, boys; I pass. I've shown you how to do the trick; some one else take the next try."

"We'll hope there isn't going to be any next, like the little boy's apple core," Jack laughed.

Then they had to drop into single file as the channel narrowed again, with the pilot boat Tramp leading the way as usual.

"This is Smith Island, and the one on which the lighthouse is built. We ought to bring up there in short order now, when the mouth of the bay will be spread in front of us like a picture," Jack called, over his shoulder.

"All very nice," grumbled Nick; "but as for me, I'd much rather it was spread out behind us," and George doubtless echoed the thought, though too proud to show any nervousness over the prospective trip on the open sea.

At least Jack's prediction came true, for they did succeed in making the point of the island where the Cape Charles Light stood, a beacon to all vessels trying to enter the great Chesapeake Bay.

Far across the heaving waters lay Norfolk, Portsmouth, and Fortress Monroe, the Government station. Near here one of the most important naval engagements of the Civil War was fought, when Ericsson's "cheese on a raft," the Monitor, faced the terrible Confederate ironclad ram, Merrimac, and forced her to retire, after it seemed as though the entire wooden United States navy was to be at the mercy of the enemy.

No doubt many of these events thronged the minds of the four high school lads as they stood there on the sandy beach looking across that stretch of sea toward the object of their expectation. And George, with Nick a good second, must have devoutly wished the labor of the next twenty-four hours were completed, with the little fleet at safe anchorage off the town of Norfolk, which they had determined to visit, so as to get their mail, and secure a few fresh supplies, since the hungry Nick was making a terrible hole in what they carried.

And on this October night they camped ashore under the gleaming Cape Charles Light.

CHAPTER XIII.

A SHOUT AT MIDNIGHT

In the morning, after they had eaten an early breakfast, the boys called on the keeper of the light, and were allowed to climb to the top of the tower. Here a glorious panorama was spread before them, with many miles of the sea to the east, the sandy shore line stretching far to the dim north, and one of the most beautiful pictures opening out to the southwest, where lay Norfolk and those other places of interest, across twenty miles of green waters that glistened in the early October sunlight.