“Or better yet a motor boat like that one coming over from the right,” said Herb. “In that thing the engine does all the work.”
“Those fellows in the rowboat seem to be laboring pretty hard at the oars,” remarked Bob. “They don’t seem to be any too expert, and the waves are pretty rough since that wind sprang up.”
“The reason they’re pulling so hard is to get 18 out of the way of that motor boat,” declared Joe. “It looks almost as though they were going to run them down.”
“There wouldn’t be any excuse for that with the whole broad ocean to maneuver in,” commented Bob. “But, Great Scott!” he cried, jumping to his feet. “That’s just exactly what it’s doing. Look! It’s right on top of them!”
The four boys watched with breathless interest the unfolding before their eyes of what promised to be a tragedy.
The young men in the smaller boat were pulling like mad to get out of the way of the motor boat bearing down upon them with undiminished speed. The girl in the stern of the boat was wringing her hands and screaming.
Whether the two men in the motor boat failed to see the rowboat in their path, or whether they were simply reckless and heartless, it was impossible to tell. In any event, there was no shifting of the helm, no slackening of speed. Swift and relentless as doom the motor craft drove into the rowboat and crushed it like an eggshell.