They set out with redoubled determination and made their way the best they could against the fury of the elements. The din created by the roaring of the gale and the thunderous beating of the surf upon the beach was beyond description. It was like the roar of a dozen Niagaras, and fairly deafened the boys as they plowed along with heads down against the storm. And if it was as terrible as this on land, where at least they were safe, what must it be on the howling waste where was tossing at this moment the crippled ship that held their loved ones.
In the mind of each was that same vision—that ship a mere speck on the mighty waters, as helpless as a bird with a broken wing, utterly at the mercy of the giant of the storm.
Yet not utterly, thank God! The wonderful radio had flashed its message through the black night, had reached out over the mighty waves, had gone to one ship and said “Come,” had gone to still another and said “Come,” perhaps to still another and still another, always with the same message “Come! A comrade is in danger. I’ll lead you to him. Come! Come quickly!”
And one gallant ship had heard and answered; and still another had heard and turned its prow in the direction of the sinking vessel, and by this time perhaps others were tearing through the waves toward the helpless craft that the ocean threatened to engulf.
This was the hope that buoyed up the comrades and kept them from despair as they hurried as fast as they could through the Egyptian darkness of the night.
The path that they were following, or rather the direction in which they were going—for in that blackness no path could be seen—was toward the bungalow colony, beyond which lay the town. It was their plan to go straight on to the town, if they were not successful in coming up with Cassey before they got there, and send out a description of the scoundrel to all nearby towns and warn the authorities to be on the alert to apprehend him.
Between the radio station and the bungalow colony was a little inlet into which the sea ebbed and flowed with the movement of the tide. It was from fifty to sixty feet wide, and a bridge stretched across it at a height of twenty feet above the water.
The inlet, or cove, was a comparatively quiet place and was much frequented by the boys, and indeed all the members of the bungalow colony, for fishing and paddling about in rowboats and canoes, craft that would have been too frail for the open sea.
“Must be getting pretty near the bridge, don’t you think, fellows?” asked Bob, after they had got some distance from the radio station.
“Seems so to me,” replied Joe. “Though in this darkness you can hardly see your hand before your face.”