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

Nick busied himself with the last of the oysters, which he had made sure to throw aboard the Wireless, and had found no time up to now, to tackle. George was tinkering with his motor, a customary amusement with him; for his heart was bent on learning how to coax yet another bit of speed from the engine that racked his boat so terribly when put at full speed.

On the Comfort, Josh and Herb, with room to spare, were having a game of dominoes, and enjoying themselves very much. This was the time when the joy of having plenty of elbow room made itself manifest.

Later on, during a little lull in the rainfall, Jack crept out to take observation, just as though he might have been an old salt, on board a sea-going vessel.

The storm was raging quite furiously, and made a roar that must have seemed more or less terrifying, had one been out on the big bay, instead of having this snug harbor.

"Whether this is Murderkill Creek, or the one rejoicing in the aristocratic name of Jones, it doesn't matter one cent," he declared, as he turned to Jimmy, who had followed him outside for a breath of air before laying down to sleep. "Just listen to that howl out yonder, and then call this bully place a bad name, will you? Let her whoop it up as she pleases, we can laugh, and sleep in peace; for there's good ground between us and the raging sea. Hear the waves break on shore, would you, Jimmy? Starting out by rescuing a poor chap from a watery grave did bring us good luck, now, I'm thinking."

CHAPTER VII.

HOW THE MOTOR BOAT FLOTILLA WENT TO SEA

In spite of the racket made by the storm, the boys managed to get in a pretty fair night's sleep. In the first place they were tired; and then they had some lost rest to make up. That first night had not been very much of a success as a slumber maker.

With the breaking of morning Jack took an observation by peeping out. The rain was still coming down spitefully; and the roar of the waves on the nearby shore announced how utterly impossible it would be for the small craft to continue their voyage south on this day.

"We're in for a stop-over, Jimmy," he announced, as a sleepy voice from among the blankets inquired as to the prospects.

It was not long before other laments were heard in the land, as Nick, George, Herb and Josh poked their heads out, in order to see what was going on.

"Gee! I hope you fellows don't think of butting into such a howler as this?" remarked George, a bit anxiously.

"I should say not," laughed Josh. "Though I reckon our comfy old tub could stand up, and take her knocks without squealing. But we'd have to wait over at Lewes just the same, so what's the use?"

"I'd refuse to move a foot, and that's flat!" declared George, as he teetered at the stern of the narrow speed boat; for it happened just then that the clumsy Nick was moving around, and whenever this came about, the balance of the craft was visibly disturbed.

"No danger," declared Jack. "We're going to make the best of a bad bargain, and roost here in Murderkill Creek for another day."

"Whoo! once when I woke in the night," remarked Josh, "and as the wind slackened up a bit, I heard the awfullest noise ever. Sounded just like somebody was hollerin' for help. And when I remembered all they told us about this pesky place, I was a long time getting to sleep again, I give you my word."

"Sure, I was after havin' the same thing myself," declared Jimmy, eagerly. "And if any banshee in the ould country ever made a more horrible noise, I'll eat me hat; and that's no lie. Whatever d'ye suppose it was, Jack, old top?"

Jack laughed.

"Oh! owls!" he remarked, carelessly.

"But looky here," Josh flashed up, "don't you reckon I've heard owls hoot before now? I tell you this was different, and much more ghastly; just like somebody was being half choked, and gurgling as he tried to call for help. It made the cold chills creep up and down my spinal column, that's right, now."

"Perhaps they've got a special brand of owl down along here, that outdoes all its species in whooping things up," laughed Jack. "And on account of some one hearing those same fierce noises long ago, the creek got its terrible name."

"Oh! forget it," broke in Herb; "especially since we've got to pass another night right here, and don't want to be bothered with bad dreams."

Breakfast was prepared in much the same fashion as their supper was cooked on the preceding evening. George and Nick had much the worst of it, with that flapping tent sheltering them, while the others found solid comfort in their hunting cabins.

Every little while George could be heard warning his stout and rather unwieldy mate to be more careful. Either he was rocking the boat in a manner most exasperating, or else rubbing up against the canvas top, which, in that particular spot, quickly developed a disposition to leak, as supposed waterproof canvas often will if you so much as place a finger on the underside while it is wet.

Along about nine o'clock, however, the clouds ceased to squeeze their watery contents down upon the adventurous cruisers.

"Hurra! boys!" Nick was heard to shout an hour later; "it's going to clear up, as sure as you live! Looky up yonder, and you'll see a break in the clouds. Then we can go ashore anyhow, and get some of the kinks out of our legs."

Nick proved a good prophet, for about eleven the clouds did begin to roll away, so that the sun peeped out. It was a welcome sight, and elicited a series of loud thankful cheers from the boys.

They were not long about getting on land. Josh in particular was seen to turn a few hand-flaps, as though in that energetic way he could loosen up his muscles the more speedily.

"But that sea will keep up more or less the rest of the day," observed Jack, as they sauntered over to a point where they could look out on the heaving surface of the broad Delaware Bay.

Having a stretch of miles in which to gather force under the piping wind, the waves were of considerable height, considering that the three boats were of diminutive size.

They watched the tumble of the billows until they were tired. Then each set about doing whatever appealed the most to his nature.

Thus Nick wandered along the bank of the creek, examining the shores closely, in the hope of being able to pick up a few shellfish, since his taste for oysters had grown to huge proportions after the feast already indulged in.

George set about drying things out on board the Wireless, so that he could tinker a little with that high spirited engine of his. Josh settled down to gather some wood, being bent on having an outdoor fire when the next meal came around, meaning supper; for they would only take a cold snack at noon. Herb was writing up his log; Jimmy getting some fishing tackle in readiness, he having an idea that finny prizes only awaited the taking in these parts; while Jack wandered forth, with a gun thrown over his shoulder, hungry for a little hunt.

They heard a double report half an hour later. Every fellow looked interested, for well did they know that when Jack pulled trigger there was a pretty fair chance of something dropping into the game bag.

Nick, who was pottering with a few rather poor looking oysters he had managed to discover in some little cove, grinned, and rubbed himself comfortingly in the region of the stomach.

"Which shall it be, brethren, wild duck, quail on toast, rabbit stew, or great governor! wild turkey roasted?" he demanded, with the utmost confidence that Jack would fulfill at least one of these conditions.

When the Nimrod of the crowd came in sight, there was more or less interest manifested as to what he had shot. After all, it proved to be wild ducks. And Nick's eyes glistened when he saw that they were mallards, three fat fellows at that.

"I happened on 'em in a little wide reach of the creek about half a mile away," Jack explained; "and as this was a pot hunt, fellows, believe me, I didn't hesitate to shoot the first barrel straight at the three as they sat on the water. Two dropped and the other fellow made to rise; but that was dead easy, and I got him with the second shell."

"Yum! yum! I can imagine how good they'll taste," remarked Nick. "But as we haven't any oven along, how can we roast 'em? Jack, why not try that hole in the ground trick that you showed us last year when we were down on the Mississippi?"

"That's right, Jack!" echoed George.

"Just as you say, fellows; and the sooner we get our oven in working order then, the better; because, you remember, it takes quite some hours for it to do the job. It's really the original fireless cooker, known to woodsmen for rafts of years before the idea was applied to bottles that will keep the stuff warm forty hours; and contrivances to gradually cook meats and other things. So here goes to get busy with the oven. Nick, you and Herb and Jimmy each pluck one of the ducks in the meantime, so they will be ready."

Now, this was a part of the business that Nick liked not at all; but he felt that it would be a shame to complain, when he delighted so much in being about to share in the treat; so he set to work, after his clumsy fashion, to make the feathers fly.

Jack, meanwhile, dug a proper hole in the ground, where he could find something like clay. With the help of Josh he started a fire in the same. This was kept up a certain length of time, until the walls of the oven were baked hard, and felt exceedingly hot. Then the ashes were cleaned out, the three ducks placed therein, after being carefully wrapped in big green leaves; and when this had been done the oven was hermetically sealed.

"We may have to wait a little later than usual for our supper," Jack said; "but when they're done, it'll sure make your mouths water just to get the scent, after that oven is opened."

The afternoon passed slowly. All clouds had sailed away, and the sun shone in a cherry manner, giving promise for a glorious day on the morrow. Still, they could not think of changing their anchorage, because the waves continued to run high; and that boat of George's was always to be remembered as the one weak link in the chain.

Josh did himself proud in preparing supper that night. And when the oven was finally opened, the delicious odor that immediately assailed the nostrils of the hungry lads sent them into the seventh heaven of delightful anticipation.

Nor was the eating of the ducks at all a disappointment. Never had they tasted anything finer in all their lives.

"Say, if mallards can touch the spot like this, what must redheads or canvasbacks be like?" demanded Nick, as he polished a leg bone handsomely, grunting his pleasure meanwhile, and perhaps inwardly sighing because there was not one whole duck apiece.

"We'll see, later on," replied Jack; "because, as we have to pass through those North Carolina sounds where such ducks can be found, there's a chance we'll take toll on the way."

"But I thought the hunting clubs had monopolized every foot of that water; and that only the wealthy New Yorkers, and ex-presidents, could shoot on Albemarle and Currituck Sounds?" remarked Josh.