Asa complied with the orders he had received. Nevertheless he was undoubtedly puzzled to understand what Dick was planning to do.
“But won’t we be washed out there into the middle of the lake, Dick?” he asked, unable to grasp the other’s plan. The very thought of being sent scudding before that howling summer storm into the waste of waters terrified Asa.
“Not necessarily,” Dick snapped out. “From the way we’re going I’m in hopes of striking Bass Island. There’s a long cape or spur that juts out on this side, you may have noticed. When we get to that we’ll try to draw in behind it!”
“Oh!” exclaimed Asa, and it was evident that he grasped the scheme his companion had arranged on the spur of the moment.
The crisis could not be very far away, that was sure, because since they had relaxed their efforts they were being carried swiftly along, always with the bow of their boat pointed directly into the wind and waves.
Many times the billows, growing higher the further they were driven from the shore, would smash against the prow of the boat and scatter spray over the occupants. But Dick cared nothing for that. Getting wet was a small matter beside being swamped, with their lives placed in danger.
“We’re close to the island!” cried Asa, presently, bracing himself for the expected command to row furiously again.
“Yes, and that’s the spur I spoke of,” added Dick. “When we are a bit nearer we must start to work. I’ll turn the boat in a little right now, so as to be ready.”
“I can hear the fellows yelling like mad,” continued the other boy.
Dick heard the shouts too, but paid little attention to them. He realized that Mr. Rowland and the boys who were racing like mad to get out on that jutting cape could not do the least thing toward assisting those who were in peril. If he and Asa managed to reach shore it would have to be through good luck, seconded by their own desperate efforts.