The Motor Boat Club at Nantucket: or, The Mystery of the Dunstan Heir

“My, it’s getting windier and rougher, isn’tit?” asked Elsie presently.

“I think there’s a good blow coming up beforelong,” Halstead answered. “If you wish,we can turn about and head back toward thepier.”

“Not unless you really want to,” protestedthe girl. “I’m enjoying this trip too much.”

“Then we’ll pass Muskeget and cruise upand down, instead of going further away fromNantucket,” Tom proposed. “The wind isshifting around to northeast, which promises agoodish kind of blow at this time of the year.If we should get very rough weather I’d like tobe where I can run in with you quickly, insteadof taking chances out here.”

“Can the ‘Meteor’ go faster than she’s goingnow?”

“Well, she’s making about fourteen miles,”smiled the young captain. “Her best speed isabout twice that.”

They ran out past Muskeget Island, thenturned back on their course, going nearer toNantucket. They were now about north ofMuskeget, but gradually passing the island, when Tom began to notice that something waswrong with the speed of the boat.

“What’s up with the engine, Joe?” Halsteadcalled down to his now invisible chum.

“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” Joeretorted. “I don’t like the motor’s behavior, and it’s getting worse every minute.”

“I should say so,” muttered Tom.

“There isn’t any danger of a serious accident,is there?” asked Miss Elsie quickly.

“Probably not,” was the young skipper’sreply. “But we don’t know, and can’t, untilwe find out what’s wrong.”

“Oh, we ought to hurry back,” shivered MissElsie. “We ought to get in before there’s anyaccident.”

“Why, provided none of us were drowned, anaccident would be something worth remembering,”laughed Jessie mischievously.

“Jessie Lester, how dare you say so?” demandedher sister, looking somewhat shocked.

“Say,” bawled up the now excited voice ofJoe Dawson, “this is a tough one!”

He showed his worried face at the hatchway, adding:

“The tank’s empty! The last drops of gasolineare running into the motor!”

“What’s that?” demanded Tom aghast.“How could that have happened?”

“I don’t know,” was Joe’s bewilderedresponse. “The tank was half-full whenwe got back from Wood’s Hole early thismorning. But now it’s empty. Look foryourself.”

The propeller shaft made a few faint turns, then stopped. Having little headway by thistime the “Meteor” soon began to drift aimlesslyover the rolling waters.

“I don’t need to look,” Tom answered, droppinghis hand from the wheel “I can seeenough to believe you, Joe. But how on earthcould this have happened, Joe?”

“It didn’t happen without some one tamperingwith the tank,” Joe exploded resentfully.“There’s no leak in the tank. We should, byrights, have oil enough to run to New Yorkand back.”

There being nothing now that he could doin the engine room, Dawson stepped moodily upon deck. The girls watched Captain Tom’sface. Mrs. Lester, her curiosity aroused by thestopping of speed, attempted to come forwardalong the deck. The rolling of the craft madethis so dangerous for her that Jed sprang forward, piloting her safely forward. There thesituation was soon made plain to the frightenedmother.

“What are we going to do?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Tom asked, the glass to hiseyes, as he looked over the rolling waters.“Had our gasoline held out we could have madethe pier with time to spare.”

“Is there real danger, then?” demanded Mrs.Lester, her face betraying her great alarm.

“There’s a northeast blow, and a big one, going to strike us within half an hour,” theyoung skipper replied. “And there’s not acraft in sight I can signal to. Our anchorswouldn’t hold in the blow that’s coming.”

“Can’t you signal the Dunstan place?” askedthe much-alarmed lady.

“Yes, but I doubt if they could see our signals, our mast is so low and the distance sogreat.”

“But they have that steam launch there. Ifyou could make them understand, captain, theycould send the launch out to us.”

“The launch is too small a craft to face theblow that’s coming,” Tom rejoined gravely.“Besides, Mr. Dunstan has no one who knowsanything about handling a marine steam engine.If you ladies will go into the cabin – ”

“And feel like rats in a trap while there’sdanger!” remonstrated Mrs. Lester. “Oh, please don’t ask us to leave the deck. We’ll feelsafer here. At least we shall be able to seewhat’s happening.”

“Get the lifelines, Joe, and rig them quickly,”spoke Tom gravely. “Jed, help me to get theanchors overboard. We’ll do everything wecan.”

While the boys worked like beavers the windcame down upon them with ever-increasingforce. At first the anchors held, the “Meteor”straining at her cables.

“Here comes a squall!” shouted Tom, suddenly.“Catch hold! Hold fast! We’ll soonknow about our anchors.”

As the squall struck, the “Meteor” heeledover. The ladies screamed with fright. Eventhe motor boat boys felt the thrill of dread.The boat rolled as though she were going toturn turtle. Then, slowly, she righted herself.

“One of the cables has parted!” shouted Jed, through the increasing tempest.

Another and heavier squall struck them, again heeling the motor boat over. She rightedherself, but the gale was becoming stronger, and, despite the remaining anchor, the “Meteor”now began to drift toward the lee shoreof Muskeget.

Miss Elsie, deathly white, and clutchingdesperately at the lifelines, began to sob.

“It’s fearful, I know,” spoke Captain Tom, quietly. “But we’ve got to face it and hopefor the best. You were admiring courage awhile ago, but now you can show as much asany man could.”

“You’re right,” Miss Elsie called backthrough the roar of the gale, as she steadiedherself. “Thank you; by pointing out the needof courage you’ve given me much.”

Tom turned to stare, with grave, impassiveface, to leeward. An eighth of a mile off thebeach at Muskeget lay a reef ordinarily sunkenbelow the surface in calm weather. But nowthe waves were dashing over this ledge, showingthe jagged points of the rough stone.

“If a miracle doesn’t happen,” thought theyoung skipper, noting the course of the boat’sdrift, “we’ll wreck there soon, and then there’sa doubt if one of us gets out of it alive!”

CHAPTER XV – IN THE TEETH OF DEATH

“What’s the worst, now, captain?”

It was Miss Jessie who asked this, her lips close to the young skipper’sear, for the gale’s roar now drowned out allordinary tones.

“Do you see that line of spray?” asked Halstead, pointing to where the water dashed overthe reef.

“Yes.”

“I’m wondering if it’s possible for us notto be dashed on that.”