“Now, what’s the game, Dick?” he asked, as soon as he had clutched the oar after it had been hastily placed in the rowlock by his comrade.
“We must turn around in a hurry, because that big wave might swamp us if it came up over our stern,” he was told.
The boys hurriedly got the boat around so that the bow pointed toward the shore from which they had so recently come, though toward a point farther along the coast line. None too soon was the manoeuver accomplished. The squall rushed across the half mile of water with wonderful rapidity. It carried a “white bone in its teeth,” as a mariner would say, for a line of foam showed directly in the wake of the first rush of wind.
“Steady now! Keep her head straight into the wind, and don’t worry any; we can hold our own as well as we want. Now, row hard, Asa!”
With those words they commenced to work their arms. The boat started directly at the foamy track of the storm, met the wave, and plunged into it.
Both boys were immediately drenched with the spray, but much to Dick’s satisfaction Asa held firm, continuing to labor fiercely. The boat reared up and pitched like a bucking bronco, but as its nose was headed directly into the waves it could not capsize, as would have been the case had they been caught beam on.
Perhaps Asa Gardner had never been in a position of real peril before. He certainly showed considerable grit, Dick thought, for with set teeth he was straining himself to the utmost while tugging at his oar; nor did he once “catch a crab” by missing his stroke and falling backward.
“Take it easier, Asa!” shouted Dick, for the storm was making such a din around them by this time that ordinary talk was next to useless.
“But it’ll drive us along if we don’t look out!” cried the other in return.
“Just what I want it to do!” returned Dick reassuringly.