Quick as a flash, the two sailors were out on the centreboard keel! She righted, but was full of water. Billy ran down the sail while Fred chucked ballast overboard.
In the meantime, the watchers on shore gasped and every face went white, but Captain Ed, finding the boys would be comparatively safe because of the airtight compartments making the dory unsinkable, ran swiftly to the float-stage and got his launch.
But quick as he was, the two sailors were more than half a mile away, blown by the fury of the wind. He just managed to catch up with them before they were wrecked on the Isleboro shore. During this flight before the storm the boys had not been idle. One bailed madly while the other tried to keep her head on to the storm.
It was a long hard tow for the little launch in the teeth of the gale with the half-filled dory dragging drunkenly behind. When at last, the boats came in the lee of the island, the nerves of those afloat as well as those on shore suddenly relaxed and made every one feel and act foolish from relief.
Fred and Bill were rushed up to the bungalow for a change into dry clothes, while Dudley and Paul heaped wood upon the roaring fireplace in the living-room. Mose got busy with an unusually good hot supper and soon after, every one was hailed to sit down for the belated meal.
As Mose brought in a great platter of broiled chicken with hot waffles he remarked hypocritically:
“Ah don’ know wedder ders any flag up fo’ dessert t’ night, cuz Ah ain’t done gone an’ made none!”
“Oh Mose! What do you call waffles?” laughed Fred.
“Oh, de’s jus’ chicken fixin’s!” grinned the southerner.
“Well just give me a pile of those same ‘fixin’s’ and a jug of maple syrup and you can wave the flag sky-high as far as I’m concerned,” remarked Billy, the connoisseur.