“Gee, this looks as if we might never get back!” whispered Fred to Randy.
“Don’t say that, Fred, or you’ll have us all scared to death.”
“It wouldn’t be half so bad if we could only see where we are,” put in Andy.
“It would be a great deal better if the fog would lift,” came from Jack. “Then, if we couldn’t get going, we might hoist some sort of signal of distress.”
The wind now came in irregular puffs, and, having lost her headway, the Fancy rolled dreadfully and occasionally shipped considerable water. Several of the boys began to bale the craft while the others continued to work over the battery.
“Hurrah! She’s going!” announced Jack, at last, and all felt something of relief when the engine was again running. Then the craft was turned around and headed once more in the direction of Cape Cod.
With the wind came a regular downpour of rain, yet even this did not serve to dispel the fog entirely. Try their best, none of the boys could see more than four or five yards in any direction. They continued to sound their horn and occasionally use the flashlight.
“We ought to be pretty close to the Cape,” said Jack, as they moved along cautiously.
“That depends,” answered Ralph. “We may have drifted out into the ocean a long distance while we were making repairs.”