The boat was fitted with a cabin over the full length, but amidships, where the motor was, were sliding partitions that could be taken down, thus making that part of the craft open. Ned had put these slides in place, securely fastening them, and closing the top hatches. The derelict hunters were thus completely shut up in the Ripper, and could manage the engine, and run the boat without exposing themselves. Only for this the big wave might have swamped them.
Maurice De Vere quickly dressed and, with the boys went to the engine compartment. The motor was humming and throbbing, and, at Jerry’s suggestion, Ned gave the wheels and cogs an additional dose of oil.
The storm rapidly increased in fury, and the boat was pitching and tossing in a manner that made it difficult to get from one part to another. But the Ripper was a substantial craft and though her nose, many times, was buried deep under some big sea, she managed to work her way out, staggering under the shock, but going on, like the gallant boat she was.
The engine, from which one or another of the boys never took his eyes, worked to perfection. If it had failed them, and they had gotten into the trough of the sea, there probably would have been a different story to tell of the motor boys on the Pacific.
“This is getting fierce!” exclaimed Bob; after a particularly big wave had deluged the boat.
“Getting fierce?” repeated Jerry. “It’s been fierce for some time. I hope it doesn’t get any worse.”
But, if it did not increase in violence, the storm showed no signs of ceasing. The wind fairly howled around the frail boat, as if angry that it could not overwhelm it, and beat it down under the waves, which were altogether too big for the safe or comfortable riding of the Ripper.
There was nothing to do save watch the engine, keep the wheel steady, and the boat pointed head on to the waves. The three boys took turns at this, for no one would now venture back to his bunk. Mr. De Vere could do little, for his broken arm hampered him, and, in order that he might suffer no further injury, he braced himself in a corner, where he would be comparatively safe from the pitching and tossing.
“Wow! That was a bad one!” exclaimed Bob, as another heavy wave thundered on the deck, and ran hissing along the scuppers.
“I think you had better get out the life preservers,” suggested Mr. De Vere, when several more tremendous waves followed in quick succession.