"It takes a pretty big storm to swamp our boat," boasted Joe. "Although, to tell the truth, I was pretty nervous for a while."
"I was so frightened I couldn't speak," confessed the girl. "I do hope Chet and Biff turned back. They would never get through that storm alive."
Frank went to the door.
"No sight of them yet," he reported. Then he peered through the driving screen of rain again. "Just a minute—I hear a boat coming this way."
"Perhaps it's Tony."
"I hope it's one or the other. I couldn't see the Napoli at all after the rain started."
In a few minutes they discerned a motorboat heading inshore. It was Tony Prito's craft, the Napoli.
"Good!" exclaimed Joe. "Chet and Biff should be along, too. They won't start on that trip to-day."
"I should hope not!" exclaimed Iola.
But when Tony's boat drew near the entrance of the boathouse on the way to its own shelter a short distance away, Tony shouted to Frank: