Such a plight, however, was hardly to be noticed in the presence of the danger that now beset them. In spite of their efforts the wind was driving them away from the point. More and more the boys did their utmost but their efforts were in vain. At last the mate shouted, “There’s nothing for it, boys, except to run for it. Sit down and we’ll let the gale drive us across to the other shore.”
The Canadian island was nearby and the shore could not be more than two miles distant, as both boys learned from their oarsman. However, it was with white and set faces that they followed his directions and each took his seat as he was bidden.
Swiftly the boat was driven before the wind, the mate exerting himself only to keep the light, little skiff headed in the right direction. So black were the clouds that already the boys were surrounded by darkness almost like that of night. Neither was able to see the shore toward which they were headed. The mate, however, appeared to be more confident than he had been while he was seeking to drive the boat against the wind.
Swiftly and still more swiftly the frail little craft sped forward. No one spoke in the brief interval between the crashes of thunder. The streaks of the lightning seemed to fall directly into the waters of the lake and at times the boys believed themselves to be surrounded by fire. Never had either been in such peril before.
Fred had sunk into his seat so that only his head appeared above the gunwale. John, whose seat was in the stern of the skiff, was so tall that he was unable to follow the example of his friend and was clinging tenaciously to the sides of the boat. Meanwhile, the mate successfully keeping the skiff headed for the shore, was watchful of every movement of his passengers.
When ten minutes had elapsed it was manifest that the anxiety of the oarsman was increasing, as they drew near the shore. Without explaining his purpose he did his utmost to change the direction so that they would move in a course parallel to the shore, but, labor as he might, he was unable to accomplish his purpose. Directly upon the rocky border of Cockburn Island the gale was driving the little boat.
Once more the mate exerted his strength to his utmost as he strove to guide the little skiff toward a cove not far away. For a time it seemed as if his efforts were to succeed. But at that moment the wind became even stronger than before and the howling of the tempest increased.
The boys had a sudden vision of an opening in the rocky shore, then there was a crash and both found themselves struggling in the water.
When they arose to the surface they saw that before them the waters were still. The sheltered cove promised a degree of safety such as a moment before they had scarcely dared to hope for. Fishing rods, coats, cooking utensils, tackle, all things had been thrown into the water when the boat had struck the jutting rock. All these facts, however, were ignored in the efforts of both boys to gain the beach before them, for they now could see a sandy stretch not more than forty feet in length that marked the limit of the waters. And it was only twenty yards away.
“All right, Fred?” called John as he swam near his friend.