Voices could scarcely be heard above the roaring wind. Dick Travers and Sam Randall bailed energetically, though they were thrown down with considerable force more than once. Little Tom Clifton, prey to a terror he could scarcely control, held on for dear life, while Dick Brandon, surprisingly calm and collected, stood by the engine, foreseeing that his services would be required.
The outline of the "Nimrod" became more distinct. She was tossing about like a chip, and her crew seemed to have become totally panic-stricken.
"Help!" again roared Nat, holding on with one hand, while with the other he grasped the megaphone. "We're almost full of water, and haven't a thing to bail with."
The "Pirates" looked anything but a brave lot, as they huddled together. Their faces were blanched, and, drenched to the skin, they presented a sorry spectacle. The "Nimrod" seemed helpless, and at the mercy of every wave.
Bob Somers saw at a glance that they were, indeed, in a serious position, rendered far more so by their inability to act with any degree of calmness.
"Give us some buckets, if you have any, quick!" yelled Nat; "or our boat will be at the bottom of the lake in no time."
The thunder and lightning still continued with unabated force, while the deluge showed no signs of stopping. Wind and waves made the task of approaching the "Nimrod" an extremely difficult one. All of Bob's resourcefulness was needed, but he managed the "Rambler" skilfully. Randall and Travers stood at the rail with a couple of buckets when, at imminent peril of crashing into the "Nimrod," the other boat passed close to windward.
John Hackett managed to seize one bucket, the other being successfully tossed on board.
"Start your motor and then go ahead, facing the storm!" shouted Bob, at the top of his voice.
"Don't go away!" yelled Kirk Talbot.