“This is a dreadful business,” exclaimed Faraday, as he wrung the proffered hand. “Seen anything of the other fellows?”
“Not a sign,” replied Joy. “We have heard lots of cries, but we are the only ones who have reached this launch.”
“What was the trouble? A collision?”
“Yes. I think we ran into one of the cutters. Whew! how this blamed thing does roll.”
It required all the efforts of the three to retain their position upon the tossing launch. The sweep of the waves sent a perfect deluge of water over them at times, and they were compelled to cling with tooth and nail.
The force of the wind continued unabated, but it was evident from the suddenness of its coming and its very fierceness that it would not last.
The lights of the Monongahela were no longer visible. Immediately after gaining the comparative safety of the capsized launch, Clif eagerly scanned the horizon.
“I am afraid she has been driven off before the gale, fellows,” he said, anxiously.
“It certainly looks that way,” agreed Joy. “I guess we can say good-by to the old Monongahela.”