“All right, I’ll attend to it.”
The two boats were drifting dangerously close together. The fisherman caught up an oar he carried for emergencies, and skillfully fended off the Pet, which was drifting down on him. In the meanwhile Bess, with the help of Eline, had dried out the olive bottle, and had filled it with gasoline.
“What shall I do with it?” she asked Cora.
“Throw it to the man.”
“I never can throw it.”
“Then give it to me,” and, holding to the wheel with one hand, with the other Cora tossed over the bottle of gasoline. The lobsterman caught it, called his thanks and gave the Pet a final shove that carried her past him.
“Can you crank her?” asked Cora to Bess, nodding toward the engine.
“I’ll try!”
It needed three tries, but finally the motor started, and the boat surged forward again. Cora, bringing her head up to the seas, noted that Jack had started to turn around to come back to her, but, seeing that the Pet was under way again, had gone on his own course.
The wind continued to blow, the rain never ceased and the storm increased apace. But finally, after a battle with the elements that made the hearts of the girls quail, they passed the lighthouse point, and shot around into the quiet and wind-protected waters of the bay. A little later they were chugging into the even calmer cove.