But Davy, as the official photographer of the patrol, was too much concerned just then in holding on, to dream of making any use of his vest pocket kodak; nor would it have been possible to have obtained any sort of view under such stormy conditions as surrounded them.
"What is it, Thad?"
Giraffe asked this question as he and the other scout managed to come close to where the patrol leader clung.
"We've got a little chance when we get to the end of the island, don't you see?" Thad bawled, making use of one hand to serve in lieu of a speaking trumpet. "We're getting closer all the time, and will just skim past the last rock. And then is our chance, when we strike the eddy there always is beyond an island. Do you understand?"
Both scouts nodded their heads violently, and Giraffe called out:
"What d'ye want us to do, Thad?"
"We must get the setting poles out, and be ready to try and push with all our might and main when the time comes. Everything depends on that!" Thad replied, also, at the top of his strong, young voice.
"But it may be too deep!" objected Giraffe; though at the same time fumbling with the rope that fastened one of the push-poles in question to the deck alongside the cabin roof.
"We've got to take the chances of that," Thad went on; "and besides, you know it always shallows where the sand is washed around the point of an island. Hurry, fellows, because we must be nearly there!"
He lent a hand himself, for he saw that Giraffe was meeting with more or less difficulty in releasing the pole toward which he had turned his attention; though had the conditions been different, the boy might not have had the slightest trouble about getting it free. The boat was pitching so furiously, that he could only use one hand, because it was necessary for him to grasp some hold, lest he be tossed overboard, as a bucking bronco hurls an unsuspecting rider from the saddle by a quick upward movement.