“We should have had a rope fast to her.”
“That you had, my lad!” agreed a grizzled old fisherman. “A rope and a kedge anchor on shore. Howsomever—”
“Can’t something be done?” demanded Cora, clasping her hands impulsively. “It must be! Our boat!”
The spectacle of the fine craft, in which so many of the hopes and expectations of the young people centered, about to be damaged, seemed to send a chill of apprehension to the hearts of the girls–more so than in the case of the boys. And it certainly looked as though a collision was unavoidable.
“And Jack!” cried Belle. “He’ll be smashed!”
“Not on that end,” remarked Ed, grimly. “If he sticks there he won’t be hurt. He’s as far away from the smashing-point as he can get.”
This was true, for Jack was now clinging to the stem of the boat, having edged his way along from amidships. He did not seem worried, and in fact was preparing to do the only thing possible to prevent a collision.
While the boys–Ed, Walter and Norton–were racing about, looking for an available boat to launch, regardless of the fact that it would be too late for all practical purposes, and while the fishermen helpers were disputing as to whose fault it was that a retaining rope had not been provided, Jack was carrying out his plan of action.
This was nothing more or less than to turn himself into a rudder. As a usual thing the rudder is on the stern of the boat–necessarily so–but in this case the stern of the Pet was the bow, as far as motion was concerned, and Jack, clinging to the stem, was on the stern, so to speak. So, vigorously churning with his feet, as a swimmer might tread water, he threw himself to one side, as a rudder might have been turned.
The effect was immediate. The Pet veered to one side, and the startled owner of the sloop, toward which the motor boat was plunging, had small use for the hook he had caught up in his excitement.