"It's no time to joke," said John solemnly. "We've just got to make them take us on board or help us out of our trouble."
"We'll have to wait until they come nearer than they are now," said George. "Have we got a big white cloth that we can use as a signal?"
"I think there are some sheets down in the cabin," suggested Grant.
"Then I'll get them," said Grant quickly, as he disappeared from sight.
In a brief time he returned with two sheets in his arms. Handing one to Grant, while John was still busy at the wheel, George said excitedly, "Now we have got to stand up and let them know that we're here."
It was plain to the watching boys that the approaching boat was a yacht as Grant had suggested. Her graceful outlines now could be plainly seen and she was swiftly approaching.
"I'm wondering," suggested George thoughtfully, "if we are tossing around on the water the way she is. Just look at her," he added excitedly as the yacht in the distance pitched visibly in the rough water.
"Of course we are," said John, "only worse. A little boat like the Black Growler is not worth much more than an egg shell."
"Still I think I would rather be in the Black Growler," laughed George.
The spray continued to dash over the motor-boat and the little craft was roughly tossed by the passing waves. Fred twice had rolled from his position on the cushions and fallen upon the floor. The assistance of his friends had been required to restore him to his former position. His ghastly appearance by this time had aroused the sympathies of his companions and besides they were all three anxious for the safety of the boat as well as of themselves.