“You got the oars?” exclaimed Tom suddenly, turning and facing the dark, storm-tossed bay in the direction the dingy had disappeared.
“Under the seats,” came the faint answer.
“We’re all right,” announced Tom, breathing hard, for the young southerner seemed to have paused not a moment since he sighted the distress signal. “With Captain Joe at the steerin’ oar, Mac at the engine, and the rest of us at the oars, I ain’t afraid but what the Escambia could cross the gulf.”
Bob’s heart leaped. In his wildest dreams of adventure, he had never pictured himself tugging at the oar of a life boat fighting a storm at sea.
“I hope the boat’s all right,” he heard Hal say. “Maybe she’s sprung a leak.”
“The Escambia was built for blows like this,” answered Tom. “If she’s out of commission, we’ll have to try the schoonah.”
But the life boat was not damaged. While the three boys waited for Captain Joe and Mac and Jerry, Tom found two small round logs. Then he and Hal boarded the boat and examined the engine. The propeller was high on the stern post and protected against bayou and river weeds with a steel guard.
Before trying the engine, the screw was also examined. Each blade was intact. When a test was given the motor and the ten-horsepower engine started up, there were new expressions of relief. But how the wind did blow! When Bob and Mac left the boat, it was high and dry. Now the rising water was already slapping at the boat’s keel. Bob reported each new flare of the distress signal.
“It’s gettin’ closer,” he called out. “But she ain’t headed for the pass.”
“That’s right,” exclaimed Hal. “She’s sure off her course, and she’ll be on the beach in rag time, if somethin’ don’t stop her.”