"That"s the idea," was Ben"s reply.
And now the storm was upon them in its full fury.
The wind seemed like a wild beast filled with furious instincts and bent on the destruction of the Bolo. Half buried in the giant waves that the sudden hurricane whipped up, the little craft bravely struggled along. Bluewater Bill kept her nose pointed right into the big combers.
Her engine was cut down to half and then a quarter speed, but she was rolling so badly that Ben Stubbs was considering the advisability of putting a rag of sail on her to steady her. She wallowed in the big seas like an empty bottle, and every lurch threatened to start some of her seams.
While not exactly scared, the boys were certainly worried.
"Do you think she"ll last out?" asked Billy of Ben, poking his head out of the cabin companion--for all the boys but Frank had been ordered below by Ben that there might be plenty of room for working the Bolo in case of a sudden emergency.
"Last out?" roared Ben, the wind whipping the words from his lips as fast as he framed them, "why of course she will, my boy. I"ve seen as bad seas as this lived out by a craft no bigger than our dory."
But although Ben spoke so confidently he was, none the less, worried.
As long as the engine kept at its work he knew they were all right, but, like most old "tar hands," he mistrusted gasolene "contraptions,"
as he called them, and in this instance his mistrust seemed well founded, for, as he stood in the after part of the c.o.c.kpit looking anxiously astern at the mountainous green combers that raced after the Bolo, as if determined to drag her down to "Davy Jones" locker," the old sailor noticed something peculiar about the motion of the boat.
She seemed to be falling off into the trough of the waves.
"Keep her up!" yelled Ben to Bluewater Bill, who sat grimly at the wheel affixed to the cabin bulkhead.
"I can"t!" roared back Bill against the fury of the wind.
"What"s the matter?"
"The engine"s broke down, I guess; anyhow, she don"t answer her helm, I can"t get steerageway on her."
As he spoke a huge sea crashed broadside on against the Bolo, shaking her as an angry mother shakes a child, and sending a great volume of green water tumbling aboard.
"We"ve got to do something and do it quick or we"ll be swamped,"
thought Ben to himself.
He banged on the top of the closed companion slide.
It was drawn back from inside and Harry"s head appeared.
"Did we strike anything, Ben?" he asked.
"No, youngster, but a wave struck us and that"s near as bad. What"s the matter with the engine?"
"I don"t know," answered the boy, "I"m trying to fix it, but the boat"s rolling so that I can"t seem to get at anything. I"m doing the best I can."
"Well, fix it as quick as you can," was Ben"s reply.
"Why--are we in danger?" demanded Harry, struck by Ben"s anxious tone.
"Well, I don"t want to say that YET, but we"ve got to get out of the trough of the sea or--"
A huge wave came toppling aboard, drenching the speaker from top to toe, and almost washing him overboard. A bra.s.s handhold saved him. The c.o.c.kpit was instantly flooded, but thanks to the patent self-baling scuppers, she cleared herself without much water getting into the cabin.
But it had been a narrow escape for all three of the adventurers in the open part of the boat. As the ma.s.s of water struck him, Frank had grabbed an awning stanchion, more from instinct than anything else, and thus saved himself from being swept overboard.
Bill had laid hold of the wheel, and although he was lifted from the helmsman"s seat and forcibly banged down again, he was safe.
"We"ve got to rig a sea anchor," declared Ben, "but in the first place, Frank, get below and empty your canvas clothes bags, stuff "em with oak.u.m and pour all the lubricating oil you can spare in on top of the oak.u.m and then make a lot of holes in the side with your knife."
Frank did not ask any questions, although he had no idea what the old sailor meant to do. He entered the cabin, through the slide, and was soon at work on his a.s.signed task, although the motion of the Bolo, which seemed first to stand on her bow and then on her stern and varied this with a plunge sideways till it seemed as if she was going to the bottom, made its accomplishment difficult.
In the meantime, Ben had taken the oars and spare spar out of the dory and lashed them all together with a long rope. Carrying this bundle forward he attached it to a line and dropped it overboard. The Bolo instantly began to drift away from it as it seemed. Soon there was a distance of fifty feet or more between the struggling vessel"s bow and this improvised "sea-anchor." Ben made the line fast to a Samson post and crawled aft along the cabin roof; pausing several times when an extra hard blast of wind made it dangerous to proceed.
Primitive as the device was, it answered.
The Bolo"s head was drawn round toward the wind by this "drag," as sailors call it, and she no longer shipped cross seas. A few minutes later, Frank had two of the oil bags ordered by Ben ready. Once more the sailor crawled on to the plunging bow and made one of the devices fast on either side.
To Frank"s amazement the seas at once began to subside--that is, in the immediate vicinity of the Bolo.
"That"s what oil will do," commented Ben, gazing about him with a satisfied look. "It spreads a thin sc.u.m on the waves and prevents them breaking. Now we shall do nicely for awhile, though now the worst is about over, I don"t mind admitting that I did think once or twice that we were bound for Davy Jones" locker."
After a lot of searching the cause of the engine"s sudden stoppage was located. One of the bearings had become so heated in the struggle against the storm that the machine had ceased working. The cause was evidently that the violent "tumblefication" that the Bolo had gone through had hindered the proper operation of the force-feed lubrication. After giving the bearing time to cool off, Frank affixed a regular grease cup to it and no difficulty was then experienced in starting up the engine once more.
"No use in laying to," said Ben, after he had been consulted as to the advisability of going ahead. "The blow"s as bad now as it will get, and we are being driven back every minute we aren"t going forward.
There"s no such thing at sea as standing still."
The drag was accordingly hauled aboard, at no small risk; but the oil bags were left to drip their calming lubricant alongside. This done, the Bolo was put on her course again and slowly forced her way through and over the angry waves that seemed determined to prevent her progress. Owing to the heavy clouds that overhung the sky, ever and anon ripped open by a lightning flash, it grew dark at four o"clock, or eight bells, as Ben called it, and Bluewater Bill was sent forward with the lights. But they had hardly been placed in position when a huge sea swept the Bolo from stem to stern, extinguishing them instantly.
"No use putting out any more," said Ben, "we must trust to luck not to run across any vessels. I don"t think that we are in the steamer track anyway."
But how wrong Ben"s words were they all realized when, at about midnight, Harry, who had the wheel, thundered on the cabin top and yelled at the top of his voice:
"All hands on deck."
They tumbled out without waiting to don any more clothes than they had turned in with. The cause of the boy"s sudden summons was at once plain. Not half a mile from them were the red and green lights of an approaching steamer, and judging from the height they were out above the water, the vessel was a big one.
"She"s headed right for us," shouted Harry.
"That"s right, we can see both lights," exclaimed Frank.
"Put your wheel over," yelled Ben.
"I can"t, something"s the matter with it," rejoined Harry, as the Bolo rose on the crest of another big wave and they saw the steamer driving toward them right in their path.
"Tiller rope"s broken," p.r.o.nounced Frank after a brief examination.
"No time to fix it up now," announced Ben, "cut out the engine. We must trust to the wind to drift us off the steamer"s course."
Bluewater Bill dived into the cabin for the lantern, but the furious wind snuffed out the light in a second.
And all the time the big steamer was driving closer and closer--straight for the helpless motor-boat.