“Here! Quit your fooling!” suddenly exclaimed Bob, as he rolled from his bunk, and barely saved himself from a bad shock by landing on his hands and feet in a crouching attitude, as does a cat. “What did you do that for?”
“You’ll have to ask Father Neptune,” answered Jerry. “We’re not guilty, Chunky.”
“Didn’t you pull me from my bunk?” asked the stout youth.
It needed no answer from his chums to assure him to the contrary. The motor boat was now pitching and tossing violently, and, as the boys stood in the cabin, they had hard work to prevent themselves from being thrown from partition to partition. Had it not been for their forethought in making everything secure earlier in the night, the boat might have been damaged.
“What’s the matter, boys?” asked Mr. De Vere, looking out from his small stateroom. “Oh, it’s the storm. Arrived strictly on time, I guess, and it’s a hummer too! How’s the engine working?”
“Fine,” declared Ned, who had just left the motor cockpit. “Runs like a charm, and hasn’t missed an explosion since I took charge.”
“That’s good,” commented Mr. De Vere. “We’ll need all the power we can get, to keep her head on to the waves, if this gets any worse.”
As he spoke there was a thundering crash on the deck above them, and a rush of water told that a big comber had come aboard, nearly burying the small craft in a swirl of green water.
“Are the hatches closed,” asked Mr. De Vere anxiously, “and the sliding doors fastened?”
“Yes,” replied Ned. “I saw to that when I noticed the wind was getting worse, and the waves higher.”