And the rain certainly did descend in a deluge for a short time. They had all they could do to prevent the boats from being half swamped, such was the tremendous violence with which the torrent was hurled against them by the howling wind.
But after all, it was only a summer squall. In less than half an hour the sun peeped out, as if smiling over the deluge of tears. The wind had gone down before, but of course the waves were still rolling very heavily outside.
“That settles our going on today!” declared George, as he pointed at the outer terminus of the cape, past which they could see the rollers chasing one another, as if in a great game of tag.
“It’s pretty late in the afternoon anyhow,” declared Josh, who was secretly worried for fear lest his rather reckless skipper might want to put forth again.
“Yes, and we might look a long way ahead without finding a chance to drop into a harbor as good as this,” remarked Herb.
“You’re all right,” laughed Jack; “and we’d be sillies to even dream of leaving this bully nook now. Besides, if tomorrow is decent, we can make an extra early start in the morning, and get to Mackinac before dark.”
“That suits me all right,” Nick observed, as he complacently started to remove his oilskins, so that he could pay attention to the bulky cork life preserver, which he did not mean to wear all night.
They found that it was possible to make a point much closer to the shore, and it was decided to do so, especially after sharp-eyed Jimmie had discovered signs of a farm near by, possibly belonging to a grower of apples, since a vast orchard seemed to cover many acres.
“I hope that big power boat wasn’t caught in that stiff blow,” Jack remarked, as they were getting ready to go ashore in order to stretch their legs a bit and look around.
“Oh! I guess they must have made Mackinac,” said George. “She was a hurry-boat, all right, and the wind would not bother her like it did our small fry.”