But the wind did not drop. Breasting its sweep, the boys plodded back to where the colored boy had nursed a fire into a blaze. For some minutes, Jerry did not notice the presence of Gregory. When the fire at last spread into a circle of light and the busy “assistant chef” suddenly detected Mac’s presence, he let out a yell and darted away into the night. There was a concerted attempt to stop the alarmed Jerry, but it seemed only to frighten him more, and, catching up the lantern, Tom ran after the fugitive.
It was Jerry’s flight and Tom’s pursuit that upset the night’s program, and, in the end, all the plans of the Anclote Club; for, while the three remaining boys were wrestling with the tent, Tom’s voice was soon heard in the distance calling frantically to the other boys. Then he broke into the camp, out of breath, with the reassured Jerry at his heels.
“There’s a boat off the pass,” panted Tom. “She’s showin’ a flare. She’s drivin’ on the beach. Somethin’s wrong with her.”
Running a few hundred yards to the higher part of the sand spit, the four boys could easily make out the distress signal.
“Ain’t no passenger steamer,” exclaimed Mac. “But she sure wants help. She’s disabled an’ callin’ loud,” he added, as a tongue of fire swept skyward. “They’re burnin’ pitch or oil.”
“Come on,” ordered Tom, turning and racing back toward the beach and camp fire. “Bob,” he asked, as they hurried along, “ever pull an oar?”
“No, but I can,” answered Bob stoutly.
“You’ll have to,” answered Tom, who seemed at once by common consent to take command. “Mac,” he yelled, “jump into the dingy and bring Captain Joe ashore. We’ll be waitin’ for you at the boat. Go along, Jerry,” added Tom.
Without question, the recently disgraced Mac and the frightened Jerry sprang into the dingy and the other boys shoved it off. Then, Mac’s lantern in hand, Tom, Hal and Bob set off at full speed along the beach toward the stranded life boat.