The crested roller of green water struck the boat half broadside on. Considerable came aboard, but the Dartaway, after staggering a bit under the weight, rose to it like a duck, and went on. Jerry started the automatic pump and the water was soon forced out.
“Say, we are in for it!” Bob yelled.
“It’s nothing but a squall!” Jerry called back. He did not have time to turn around, because he had to devote all his attention to the wheel.
“What are you going to do?” asked Ned, shouting the words out. Indeed nothing less than a yell could have been heard above the roar of the wind, the swish of the rain and the splash of the water as it struck the side of the little craft.
“Going to keep on,” replied Jerry grimly. “It’s all I can do. If I turn back I’ll be swamped. Maybe I can run into a quiet cove, somewhere along the beach.”
The squall was now raging in all its sudden, but short-lasting fury. Though the boys realized it would not keep up its capers very long, they knew that their position was anything but a safe one. It was nearly dusk, with the dying light of sunset hidden by the mist and clouds.
Still, as Jerry had said, there was nothing to do but keep on. By doing so the bow of the boat could be held so as to cleave the waves. To turn meant to get them broadside on and this would soon swamp the craft.
“Isn’t there some place we can put in to?” yelled Ned.
“Don’t know of any,” Jerry called back.
Down came the rain, harder than before, and the wind seemed to howl in glee at the plight of the boys. The craft was tossing to and fro on the waves, which, while not of any extraordinary size, were almost too big for the Dartaway. They would have amounted to nothing for a larger boat, with more freeboard than had the motor craft.