“We’re jest about east o’ Cape Hatteras. An’ lemme tell you, that’s some place to be in when a storm comes.”
“Yes, we’ve heard all about Cape Hatteras and the awful storms they have in that vicinity,” said Fred. “Gee, maybe this old tub will go to the bottom!”
That night on the Hildegarde proved to be one the boys never forgot. The wind seemed to blow stronger and stronger until the vessel was rolling and pitching in a manner that made it dangerous to cross the deck. Nearly every stitch of canvas had been taken in, only enough being left set to give the schooner steerage way. There were several showers, but nothing in the way of a heavy downpour, and what little there was of thunder and lightning kept in the distance.
“Well, I’m mighty thankful we’re not out in the motor boat,” remarked Randy.
“So am I,” answered Fred. “I don’t believe we could do a thing in such a wind as this.”
“Do you notice that it is not as cold as it was?” remarked Jack. “This breeze is quite warm.”
“That’s because it is coming from the south,” answered Spouter. “You must remember that the farther south we go, the warmer it’s going to be.”
“If we’re off Cape Hatteras we’re a good way from home,” put in Ralph. “Hang the luck, anyhow! Why did we have to run into these miserable bootleggers?”
By midnight the storm was at its height. Sleep for the boys was out of the question, and they huddled together near the door of the forecastle, talking in low tones and wishing for daylight to come.