“Good idea,” said Jerry. “We’ll do it.”
They obtained permission from a friendly boatman to leave their two launches tied at his dock, and making sure they were well fastened, the boys set off on their way to Cresville.
They were fortunate in catching a train, for they had come several miles from home, but in due time they were again trudging the streets of their town.
The storm was still at its height, and considerable more damage had been done to the various buildings. A relief corps had been organized, and the boys were about to offer their services when Bob, who had gone over to look at the bulletin in front of the newspaper office, came back with a serious look on his face.
“What is it?” cried Ned.
“Bad news, fellows. There’s a wireless message there, from Boston. It says that several large steamers are in distress, and that a number of small boats have foundered. But that isn’t the worst. The Hassen, with my uncle and cousin on board, has sunk, so the dispatch says,” and the tears came into poor Bob’s eyes.