“Well, I don’t want her to smash any more than you do, but just feel that wind, and think what it is out on the river! Even a low motor boat, without any sails, would scud along before it at easily twenty miles an hour. It’s awful!”
“That about describes it,” agreed Bob. “Say, but I’m wet. We’ll all need hot coffee after this.”
The rain and wind were chilling, and this time Bob’s reference to something to eat—or, rather something to drink—passed unnoticed.
A little later the boys were at the river, and soon had taken out their large motor boat, which, fortunately, was all ready to run, and with plenty of gasoline in the tank.
“Now for a chase!” cried Jerry.
“Yes, and a hard one, too,” added Ned. “I wonder which way the Scud went?”
“She could only go one way—that is, with the wind,” declared the tall lad, who had taken his place at the wheel. “No boat, even under power, could make much headway against this gale. Turn her over, boys, and we’ll see what happens.”
With the four lads aboard the staunch motor boat started out on the search, going with the wind. So fierce was the gale, and so swiftly did it send the boat along, that there was hardly need for the propeller, but Jerry kept it going at top speed, for he wanted to make the best time he could, and save the Scud, which was the name of the racing boat, before she pounded herself to pieces on the rocks.
The river was deserted by other craft, and the boys realized the risk they were taking in being out on the water in such a storm. But they were used to taking chances, and they simply had to try to save their fine craft.
In a short time they had covered several miles, and they had looked, unavailingly, all along the way for a sight of the Scud.