"No, let's go inside," suggested Frank.
"Besides, we want to save some of the air in the tank to blow the whistle to-morrow," went on Sammy. "We can compress the air only when the motor is running, and we can't start that."
"Maybe we can," suggested Bob. "I'm going to have a try at that in the morning, if we aren't picked up before."
"Maybe it will start by just turning the switch. Silas said it did, sometimes," spoke Frank.
"Well, don't try it now," exclaimed Bob, quickly. "We don't want to get it going when we don't know which way to steer. Let's wait."
And wait they did.
Into the cabin they went again, out of the wind and rain. The shelter seemed a cozy place in contrast to the blackness outside.
"Didn't it all happen suddenly?" remarked Bob. "One minute we were at the dock, waiting for Silas to come back, and then, all at once, the storm came up, we broke loose, and had started to drift. It all seems like a dream."
"I wish it was a dream," murmured Frank, "and that we'd wake up in Barnacle Cottage."