“And we were safe on land,” added Mrs. Plummer.
She had scarcely spoken when the steamer gave a mighty heave and they heard the rush of water over her bow.
“We’re sinking! We’re sinking!” came a scream from one frightened passenger.
“Not yet,” added another quickly. “But it looks mighty bad.”
[CHAPTER XXIII—FROM THE JAWS OF DEATH]
It was in a tumult of excitement that the radio boys started out to run down Dan Cassey, who they felt sure was the rascal who had assaulted Brandon Harvey and robbed the safe. They were, too, in a frenzy of apprehension about the fate of their parents and friends out on the stormy sea.
Still they had been relieved to some extent by the assurances that vessels were hastening over the wild wastes of water to the help of the imperiled ship and by the knowledge that all had been done that could be done under the circumstances. It seemed to them that it was now clearly their duty to assist in the running down of a criminal who had made such a dastardly attack upon one of their best friends.
Their task was made the harder by the blackness of the night and the fury of the storm. The gale had risen in violence until it had reached nearly a hundred miles an hour. It buffeted them about, and at times turned them completely around. Fortunately the sand was sodden with rain, otherwise the boys would have been choked and blinded by the flying particles.
But the rain that helped them in this respect hindered them in another, for it drenched their clothes and made them cling close to their skins so that rapid progress was made almost impossible.
“Never mind, fellows,” Bob shouted. “The same things that are bothering us are bothering Cassey too. But there’s no use in our all sticking close together. Let’s spread out like a fan, and if one of us doesn’t come across him, another may. The first fellow that catches sight of him can let out a shout and we’ll all close in. Come ahead now, fellows. Speed’s the word.”