CHAPTER VIII
TWO CAPTIVES
“What’s that? What’s the matter?” cried Tom Swift, hearing Mr. Damon’s shout. “Are they going to ram us?”
Tom had been bending over the gasoline throttle in an endeavor to coax a little more speed out of their craft. Now he looked up to see that they were very near the fleeing boat.
“No, I said rocks ahead! Look! Bless my life preserver, we’re going to hit them!” yelled the eccentric man. “Look out!”
Then, but too late, Tom saw and realized why the other boat had swerved so suddenly. It was to avoid the rocks. And now the Gull, which was the name of the boat Tom had hired, was headed directly for the black, sharp rocks that reared their ugly heads out of the blue water of Lake Carlopa.
“Hand me that boat hook and maybe I can fend us off,” called out the tramp.
Tom, however, was sure this would be of no service, so he did not obey the request. He was trying with all his might to pull the wheel around far enough to steer the Gull away from the rocks. But the craft was a heavy one, rather clumsy, and did not respond readily.
“See if she’ll reverse, Mr. Damon!” panted Tom, who had to use both hands on the wheel. “Throw that lever back!” and he pointed to one with his foot.
“Yes, I know how!” Mr. Damon replied. He grasped the gear lever and began straining on it. Suddenly there was a sharp report.