“Well, Fred, we will do that, if we can find a line strong enough.”
“I can get a new line,” said Charlie, “that was left when they rigged the Ark.”
There was no getting into the cave by its mouth, as it was entirely filled by the surf; so they hauled the canoe over the rock into the cave, rowed up, and anchored as near as they dared, to look at it. Every time the surf came in, which was about once in five minutes, it swept the ball towards them, where it remained a minute or two, and then the recoil of the wave drew it back. Fred, putting the line round him, flung himself into the water, which was spotted with patches of gray froth that the wind blew from the crest of the breaker. The resolute boy breasted the waves; but so far from being sucked in, he found it impossible to reach the spot where the ball lay, and the suction began, by reason of the wind, which blew directly in his face, and the sea, that, beyond the influence of the breaker, drove directly to the shore; and, worn out with effort, he returned exhausted to the boat.
“I have got a plan,” said Charlie, who, by this time, had become as much interested as Fred himself. “Let us make the line fast ashore, Fred sit in the stern and hold on to it, keeping his eye on the ball, and tell us where and how to row, and one or the other of us will catch it.”
“Suppose,” said John, “while he was watching the ball and us, he should happen to let the line slip, or couldn’t hold it; then we should follow the ball right into the breaker.”
“We will make the end fast to the head-board of the canoe; then it can’t get away, and we can have it as well as he.”
The boys now pulled up the grappling, holding the canoe stationary with their oars till the surf should come in to drive the ball towards them.
“Ready!” shouted Fred; “here it comes!”
“Ay, ay.”
“Ready! Give way together!”