The Motor Girls on the Coast: or, The Waif From the Sea

“It won’t rain!” asserted Jack. “Go ahead, Ed–sing!”

“‘Rocked in the Cradle of the Deep’ would be most appropriate,” voiced Norton. “We are rocking some.”

It was indeed getting rougher, and the motor boats bobbed up and down on the long swells. But as yet none had broken over the bows. Cora dreaded this, not because of any particular danger, but because of the effect it would have on her chums, particularly Belle, who, try as she might, could not conquer her nervous dread of the water.

The boys started a song, and the girls joined in, but a sudden dash of spray over the Pet’s stem brought a scream from Belle that made a discord, and they all stopped.

Jack, who was steering the Duck, stood up and looked ahead. They were approaching the point around which they must go to reach their own cove.

“Can we do it, old man?” asked Walter, in a low voice.

“We’ll try,” answered Jack, equally low. “If we give up now the girls will get scared. We’ll keep on a bit longer, and see where we come out.”

“Can’t you get a bit nearer in shore?” asked Norton.

“It’s risky,” said Jack. “It’s low tide now, and while this old tub doesn’t draw much there are a lot of rocks here and there, sticking almost up at low water. If we hit on one of them we’ll be in the pot for fair. The only thing to do is to stand out, and trust to luck. Once around the point we’ll be all right.”

“They’re coming in,” said Walter, nodding toward Cora and the others.

“Keep out! Keep out!” cried Jack. “It’s dangerous.”

“But the girls want to land!” cried his sister.

“You can’t now. The shore is too rocky. You’d pound her hull to pieces. Keep on around the point. The storm won’t break for half an hour yet.”

Rather reluctantly Cora put the wheel over. Yet she recognized the truth of what Jack had said. It would be dangerous to go ashore there. And to turn back was equally out of the question, since the wind was rising. It was at their backs, and to turn in the heavy sea now running might mean an upset. To face the waves, too, would be dangerous. The only chance lay in keeping on.

Jack’s prophecy about the storm was not borne out. With a sudden burst of wind, that whipped the salty spray of the waves over those in both boats, and a sprinkle of rain that soon became a downpour, the tempest broke.

The girls screamed, and tried to get under some bits of canvas that Cora had brought along to cover the engine. But the wind was so strong, and the rain so penetrating that it was of little avail.

“Head her up into the waves!” cried Jack. “Take ’em bow on, Cora!”

“Of course!” she shouted back, and gripped the wheel with tense fingers.

A little later they were out on the heaving ocean. Fortunately the point cut off some of the wind, and, having the gale at their backs helped some. But the two motor craft, separated by some distance now, had no easy time of it.

“Oh–oh!” moaned Belle.

“Be quiet!” commanded her sister. “Look at Eline!”

Eline was calm–that is, comparatively so.

“But–but she can swim better than I.”

“Swim! No one will have to swim!” said Cora, not turning around. “I wonder what’s the matter with that man?” and she pointed to one in a dory, who seemed to be signalling for help.

Then there came a further burst of the storm, and the rain came down harder than ever.

CHAPTER XXI

THE WRECK

“There must certainly be something the matter with that man!” exclaimed Cora. She had fairly to shout to be heard above the noise of the wind and rain.

“Well, we daren’t stop to see what it is,” said Belle. “Oh, do go faster, Cora! Get in quiet water! I am getting seasick!”

“Don’t you dare!” cried Bess. “Think of–lemons!”

“I’m going to see what is the matter,” declared Cora. “He’s waving to us!”

“What about the boys?” asked Eline.

“They don’t seem to see him. Besides, they’re past him now, and it would be risky to turn back. I can easily pass near him.”

The man, who was in a power-driven dory, was waving and shouting now, but the wind carried his words away. He seemed to be in some difficulty.

“Why doesn’t he row in out of the storm?” asked Bess.

“Perhaps he has lost his oars,” suggested Eline.

“Maybe that is the trouble,” remarked Cora. “Well, we’ll soon see.”

She changed the course of the Pet, though it was a bit risky for the seas were quartering now, and the spray came aboard in salty sheets. But the girls could not get much wetter.

Cora slowed down her engine by means of a throttle control that extended up near the wheel. She veered in toward the tossing dory.

“What is it?” she cried. “What’s the matter?”

“Out of gasoline! Can you lend me a bit so I can run in? I came out to lift my lobster pots, but it’s too rough.”

“Gasoline? Yes, we have plenty,” said Cora. “I’ll give you some.”

“Don’t come too close!” warned the fisherman. “Can you put it in a can and toss it to me? That’s the best way.”

“I’ll try,” promised Cora, as she cut off all power. The Pet was now drifting, rising and falling on the swells. Belle looked very pale, and Bess was holding her.

“Find something, and run some gasoline into it from the carbureter drip,” directed Cora, as she clung to the wheel.

“What shall I find?” asked Bess.

“Would an empty olive bottle do?” asked Eline.

“The very thing!” cried Cora. “Has it a cork?”

“Yes, and one olive in it.”

“Throw out the olive, and poke your handkerchief down in the bottle to dry it out before you put in the gasoline. Even a drop of the salt water the olives come in will make trouble in the gasoline. Hurry!”