“We’re going to get caught!” declared Mollie. “I guess I’ll close the ports, Betty.”
“Do; and bring out my raincoat, please.”
Attired in this protective garment over her sailor suit, the Little Captain stood at the wheel.
With a blast that flecked the crests of the waves into foam, with a rattle and roar, and a vicious swish of rain, the storm broke over the Gem while she was yet a mile from the camp on Elm Island. The boat heeled over, for her cabin was high and offered a broad surface to the wind.
“We’ll capsize!” screamed Amy.
“We will not!” exclaimed Betty, above the noise. She shifted the wheel to bring the boat head-on to the waves, and this made her ride on a more even keel. Then, with a downpour, accompanied by terrific thunder and vivid lightning, the storm broke. Betty bravely stood to her post, the others offering to relieve her, but she would not give up the wheel, and remained there until the little dock was reached. Then, making snug their craft, they raced for the tent. It had stood up well, for it was protected from the gale by big elm trees. Soon they were in shelter.
And then, almost as suddenly as it had come up, the storm passed. The clouds seemed to melt away, and the sun came out, the shower passing to the East.
Grace, who had gone out on the end of the dock, called to the others.
“Oh, come on and see it!”
“What—the ghost?” inquired Mollie.