THE RESCUE
The coffee that stood on the still warm electric stove proved a valuable aid in restoring the stunned Lottie. She had not been struck; her nerves had simply given out, and she had collapsed.
Finally she opened her eyes.
“I’m all right now,” she said faintly, and it was evident the shock had dulled her terror, at least.
“Just lie still,” whispered Cora, encouragingly. “The storm will soon be over.”
“The storm?” Lottie repeated. Then she closed her eyes again, but this time it was only exhaustion, not faintness.
The other girls had been roused to activity by Lottie’s condition. They could now see a rift in the clouds, and one after another hurried to say that the storm was breaking, and it was not so bad; that boats could be seen, and perhaps they would soon sight land.
But those at the wheels of the boats knew how little they could do in the way of steering. Every time the wheel was turned one way the force of the rollers would wash it completely around. In fact they were making absolutely no progress, and might almost as well have allowed the powerless craft to submit to the fury of the waters.
Cora realized this, as did the boys, but the other girls, except perhaps Bess, felt more secure as the sound of the motor indicated motion. The clouds were lifting, but the force of the storm seemed to be coming in from sea, and had little to do with the appearance of the sky.
“Oh, if help would only come!” Cora whispered to Bess. “I’m afraid another and worse storm is gathering!”
“Don’t give up,” replied the girl, her own face gray in the mist and spray that covered the deck even under the awnings.
“I—see—something bobbing up and down over there!” Cora continued. “See! It is—a big, strong boat, perhaps a lifeboat!”
“Let us hope so,” answered Bess, fervently.
Not one word could Cora exchange with Jack, he was too far from her to hear her voice. The Dixie was still near enough to be sighted, but how the boys managed to keep her so was as remarkable to themselves as to those on the Chelton.
“That’s a boat, all right,” said Bess with more vigor in her voice, “and it looks like one from the life-saving station.”
Cora peered anxiously in the direction of the speck that played upon the waves.
“Hey!” yelled Jack, “there comes Denny!”
“Denny!” repeated Cora wonderingly.
“Oh, there’s Freda!” called Belle, jumping up from the bottom of the boat and promptly falling back again.
“It’s Freda and Denny, and someone else?” asked Bess, breathlessly. “Oh, what a mercy!”
“It’s a boy,” declared Kent. “See the rain-hat and slicker?”
“Yes, and see Freda’s hair floating out from under that rubber hat!” insisted Bess. “Oh, I know it’s Freda, and I can see Denny plainly!”
The boat was coming nearer. On the crest of a roller it fairly soared towards them. Then Cora saw it was Denny and Freda, with another man whom they did not know.
“Head up into it!” came a voice from the dory, for even in a storm Denny knew how to make his voice carry over the water.
Jack heard, and swung the wheel toward the left. That would put them “into the storm,” instead of on the edge of it.
At that moment the Dixie shot past and dashed right up to the dory.
“Here,” called Jack, “can you make it to get in here?” This was called to those in Denny’s boat.
“Not now!” shouted back the man. “Keep close!”
The roar of the storm increased. Just as Cora had predicted, the new squall was worse than the first. For some moments all three boats tossed and tumbled as if they had neither master nor man, but it was the Chelton that righted herself first.
By an ungiven signal the three boats got into line. The dory was directly in the center and the two motor boats served to shield it from the waves that lashed them on either side.
“Quick! Freda!” yelled Cora, grasping the line Denny tossed to her. “You can climb in! We can hold it tight!”
Like a sprite, the girl in the yellow slicker and rubber hat made for the highest end of the boat, measured her distance to the Chelton, and while Kent and Cora strained to hold the rope steady, sprang.
It was not the distance, which was but a few feet, but the uncertainty of the boats’ motion that made the leap perilous. But Freda landed safely in the Chelton.
“None too soon!” gasped Cora, pressing her arms around the wet oilskin coat. “See where they have gotten to now!”
The boats had drifted apart again. The girls clung to Freda as if she had really brought them safely to shore, instead of adding her own weight to their burden, but it was the message from land that reassured them.
“Isn’t it dreadful!” moaned Lottie, still trembling from her collapse.
“No!” replied Freda, cheerfully. “It isn’t so bad out there. But we knew what it was on this bar, and could tell by the wind just about where you were drifting. If Jack will let me take the wheel I will follow Denny’s orders and ride into it. Then we can go around the island—and see a blue sky!”
“Blue sky!” came the exclamation from the girls in unison.
“Certainly. But I must have the wheel, Jack.”
Having satisfied them that she could run the boat, Freda changed places with Jack, while Cora let her brother take up her watch beside Kent. Then Cora went to the steering wheel with Freda.
“Don’t be afraid,” the latter said. “I have ridden out worse storms than this with Denny. They have a way of turning things upside down, but you are all right as long as you can keep well on top.”
She was driving directly into the smother. The girls shut their eyes, and it must be admitted that more than one put their fingers in their ears, for indeed the roar was deafening.
“There are Denny and the man getting into the Dixie!” breathed Cora. “Oh, I am so glad, for it must have been dreadful to row that boat.”
“It was no joke, but Denny likes hard work,” Freda answered. “Now here is where we ride it out!”
Every bit of power was turned on and with one well directed plunge the Chelton was shot through what seemed to be a “comber” as if she had been a submarine.
“Oh!” gasped Cora. Freda dropped into the “V” space at the base of the wheel. Still, she did not take her hands from the spokes. It was a serious moment. What if the boat could not ride those waves? The time it took to get out of the harder waves could not be estimated by the hands of a clock or watch; but in gasping breaths, thumping hearts, pale faces and fears—for boys as well as for girls—it must have been a long, long time.
Finally Freda stood up.
“There!” she exclaimed. “What did I tell you?”
“Sky!” they all shouted, clapping their hands like children.
“And—it—took a girl—to—do it!” exclaimed Jack, who would not have been blamed for hugging Freda had the opportunity offered. Instead, however, he made his way back to the wheel and allowed Freda and Cora a chance to look at their blistered hands, for both girls had been tugging at the spokes.
“Who would believe a storm would end like that?” said Belle, with the relief that comes so quickly upon intense strain.
“We have got to keep in out of the rain for a while,” Cora cautioned. “There are enough water-loaded clouds over there yet to dampen our enthusiasm.”
This proved to be true, for torrents of rain followed in the wake of the vanishing thunder clouds.
But the wind had ceased, and the waves soon quieted. With more than a sigh of relief the Chelton girls and boys fell into the course made now by the Dixie, for in that boat Denny Shane was at the wheel.