“Rats! get along with you. We understand what your feelings are; but we also know what a cranky boat you’ve got. Hit her up now, and skedaddle!” called Jack.
“Are you saying that as a chum, or as the commodore of the fleet?” asked George.
“As the commodore; and see to it that you obey orders,” answered the other.
Accordingly, George did put his motor to its best speed, and rapidly left them in the lurch. Jack would never desert the steady going old Comfort, and that wide-beamed craft was already working her full limit of nine miles to the hour, so nothing could be done but keep moving, and hope for the best.
The wind increased. Luckily it was dead ahead; and while it might retard their progress to some extent, at the same time it did not kick up half the tremendous sea that would have been the case had it come from the wide ocean at their back, or the port side.
“Do ye be thinking we can make it?” asked Jimmy, who looked a little peaked as he squatted there, watching the tumbling waves, and eying wistfully the shores now close at hand, where houses were to be seen.
“I don’t doubt it for a minute,” answered the resolute skipper of the Tramp, who always refused to be downcast when face to face with danger. “We’re hitting up a pretty fair pace, and if nothing happens to prevent, in ten minutes we’ll begin to get the benefit of the shelter of the land.”
“Anyhow, George has gone through the opening,” declared Jimmy, hopefully.
“Why, yes, there he is beyant, and in calm water; I do believe he’s waiting for us right now. Bully for George! And we ought to be with him soon.”
Although the storm increased, they were by now so well in that it had little terror for them. And presently they ran into calmer waters, where the other boat waited for their coming.