“I hope it isn’t the land that’s at the bottom of the ocean,” said George.
“Don’t be so pessimistic, Pop,” urged Fred. “What’s the matter with you lately?”
“Nothing. We’re in a bad fix, that’s all.”
“Look out for this wave!” warned Grant suddenly as a great mountain of water loomed up behind them.
The little boat was driven along at the speed of a race horse for many, many yards, but fortunately she remained right side up. The four boys managed their oars skillfully and Petersen steered marvelously. Now and then some water was shipped but aside from that no harm came to them.
Gradually the wind died down and the storm abated. Night had now come upon them, however, and they were in a sorry plight.
“Where are the other boats?” asked Grant when an hour of silence had elapsed.
“I’ve no idea,” said Fred. “Has any one seen them?”
No one had. At least every one denied it but Sam, and as he had not once looked around him there was no chance that he had seen anything. Now he was asleep. He had made no move to help in any way and seemed to take it for granted that the others would look after him. His last words before he had closed his eyes were, “Dat Finn.”
“We’ve got some provisions, anyway,” said John.