Chapter XII: The Island Refuge

Those streaks on the horizon foreboded evil weather, as Luke had feared. None of the party on the _Isobel_ had ever seen a storm gather so quickly. In an hour the waves were white-capped and those blue streaks of wind had reached the zenith.

Behind it, from the west, rolled up a pallid hedge of mist, back of which the stronger wind growled like a leashed dog. Lightning fluttered across the face of the coming cloud-bank. Then the crackle of thunder rose louder and louder.

Luke and Neale, even Mr. Howbridge, worked at the stalled motor. They took turns whirling the fly-wheel. There was no more response than as though they had stood up and commanded the tempest to recede.

Fortunately the children did not understand the threat of the elements. Tess and Dot were not often affrighted by a thunderstorm. And Ruth and Agnes could not wholly understand what was coming.

There was not the usual hush which is so often noted before the striking of such a tempest. In this case the wind and lightning drew on with equal velocity; but the rain stayed behind. On and on the forefront of the storm came, as savagely persistent as a pack of wolves, and then leaped upon its prey with a force that seemed to crush every object on the surface of the sea.

The only craft in sight was their own _Isobel_. The waves flattened about her for a considerable space, and for some moments, as though the wind came from directly overhead.

“Get inside, every one of you girls!” commanded Mr. Howbridge, shouting at the top of his voice. “Close that cabin door and keep it closed.”

The little ones were already below. Ruth went down the steps, shouting back over her shoulder:

“You’d all better come too. You can do nothing here.”

Agnes scuttled behind her, terrified indeed. They jammed shut the slide. Almost the next instant the thunder of the rain on the deck deafened those in the cabin. The two boys and the lawyer lay under a tarpaulin which shed a portion of the deluge. But they could not distinguish each other’s speech.

It seemed as though the very weight of the rain must sink the motor-boat. It thundered on the deck and foamed in the cockpit. Such a cloudburst none of them had ever seen, or even dreamed of.

In ten minutes the rain passed. It roared on toward the east like the rattle of a giant drum corps. But the darkness and wind remained. It was impossible to see more than a few yards about the _Isobel_. Islands, and all, had disappeared. But the launch was moving now—racing into the east, like the rain, and with all the force of the wind and sea astern.

Neale crawled out from under the tarpaulin and climbed up on a cushion seat out of the knee-deep water. That water was roaring out through the vents, or seeping into the lower bilge. When Luke got up he made straight for the pump and began to work it. It sucked immediately, and the water spurted through the hosepipe.

“My goodness, boys!” shouted Mr. Howbridge, “what are we going to do?”

“Keep our eyes open for an island,” shouted back Neale.

“Hope we’ll find one,” was the muttered reply.

“Keep the old boat from sinking,” declared Luke, vigorously pumping.

“The girls will be scared to death,” grumbled the lawyer.

“Let them stay below and they won’t know much about it,” Luke told him.

“Good idea,” tossed down Neale, as he staggered upon the break of the cabin roof.

There came a knocking on the cabin door. It was stuck.

“There! They want to get out already,” cried Mr. Howbridge.

“‘Want to’ and ‘Can’ are two different things,” replied Luke. “Let ’em knock!”

It was not that the boys were callous, but they knew that if the girls came out of the cabin they would immediately appreciate the full danger of the situation. Agnes and Ruth would not be able to see much through the narrow deadlights.

Mr. Howbridge went to the cabin slide. He put his lips close to the door and shouted:

“Don’t bother! Stay where you are! We are all right, but must wait for the wind to stop.”

“Let—us—out!” shrieked Agnes’ voice.

“Stay where you are and keep still!” commanded their guardian more sternly. Then he asked the boys, with no little anxiety: “Is it safe to let them stay down there? Suppose she should turn turtle?”

“We’re riding pretty fair now,” said Luke.

“And if she turned over they would have a better chance than we would,” declared Neale O’Neil. “There would be air enough confined in the cabin to keep them going for a time. But if we were thrown into this sea there isn’t one of us could live five minutes.”

This was so evidently the fact that Mr. Howbridge said nothing more. The lawyer was not much of an out-of-doors man at the best. He had not spent much time on the sea or in the wilds, and he was now past middle age. But he possessed something that not all men used to roughing it possess. He had a broad knowledge from reading of boat-sailing as well as of other sports.

He was less ready to show apprehension than the young fellows. The responsibility for this condition of affairs must rest more on Mr. Howbridge’s shoulders. The lawyer accepted this fact, and proceeded to cudgel his brains to find a way out of the difficulty.

“We’ve got to overhaul that engine, in spite of the heavy sea, and try to make her go,” Mr. Howbridge said. “You’ve cleared out the water pretty well, Luke. She rises to each wave, and as long as it does not rain again we certainly will not be swamped.”

“We need a lantern,” complained Neale. “Guess we’ll have to pry open that door, Mr. Howbridge.”

“Think so? I don’t want the girls up here.”

“Well, we can make the little ones stay down, and Ruth will look out for them. If Aggie insists on coming up here we’ll set her to work.”

“That will please her only too well,” said Agnes’ guardian.

Which was true enough. Agnes rushed out on deck, sputtering. Neither she nor Ruth had any idea of the extent of the disaster. When she saw the racing, foam-capped waves and the blackness of sea and sky, even the flyaway was subdued.

“Are we headed in the right direction?” Ruth asked at the open slide.

“We sure are,” grumbled Neale. “Heading right with the wind. If we tried to shift our course the wind would like enough roll us over and over like a barrel.”

“Isn’t it fortunate the wind is heading us toward St. Sergius, then,” observed Agnes.

“Oh, shoot!” ejaculated Neale. “Do you think even the elements play in our favor, Aggie Kenway? According to the needle of this compass we are heading due east, and St. Sergius is some distance behind us.”

“Oh!” gasped Agnes and Ruth in unison.

“Now, Ruth,” said Mr. Howbridge sternly, “I expect you girls to do your share. You look out for the children in there. If Agnes insists on being out here she can come and hold this pry-bar. I believe we’ve got to block up the engine at this corner before she will make an even stroke. I could see that she jarred when we started, and I should have insisted upon having her jacked up then.”

Agnes came very meekly and did his bidding. Neale stuck to the wheel, or the craft would have wobbled much worse than she did. Luke aided the lawyer at the cranky engine.

Ruth tried to be cheerful with Tess and Dot. But both little girls had already gained the impression that they were in danger. Tess asked seriously:

“Don’t you suppose, Ruthie, that it would be a good thing if we said our prayers, even if it isn’t bedtime?”

But Dot’s mind ran upon more mundane things. She remarked after a little silence:

“I wonder if Sammy Pinkney was here, if he would feel much like being a pirate on this wiggly boat?”

As the storm continued to sweep the _Isobel_ on and on, with no sign of abatement, the older ones at least felt no desire to converse uselessly, and the little girls went to sleep in a berth. Fortunately they were not so seriously troubled by the peril that menaced as their elders. Even Agnes was subdued; but she, like Ruth, was courageous.

Mr. Howbridge finally gave up the attempt to start the engine. While the launch pitched so it was impossible to make any headway with the crippled mechanism of the _Isobel_. They managed to make some coffee, and with this and crackers, they tried to satisfy their appetites. Then they went to rest for the night. But nobody slept much.

In addition to the force of the wind, a certain current must have seized the boat, for she drove on for hours in a direction quite opposite to that in which the party wished to go. St. Sergius and any inhabited island they knew anything about were behind them.

With dawn the wind fell, the sea became calmer, and the clouds began to break. The first rays of the sun, when flung into their faces, did not dazzle their eyes so much that they could not observe an isle almost dead ahead. A cheerful green island it was with a hill in its center on which grew a very tall palm.

“We’re going to land there if it can be done,” declared Mr. Howbridge. “There are two long oars and you boys do what you can with them when we get close in.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” cried Neale cheerfully. “Looks as if we were going to play Robinson Crusoe for a while, doesn’t it?”

“More like the Swiss Family Robinson,” Luke remarked. “Looks like a deserted place, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t see any hotel,” rejoined the lawyer dryly. “But there is quiet water in that cove yonder. See if you can paddle us into it.”

At any rate, the strange island offered a refuge. And a bit of solid earth under their feet was what they all most craved.