  As the course of the Gadabout was sharply changed in response to the call of the captain, the attention of the four boys was quickly drawn in another direction. Not one of them was aware of anything unusual in what really was a signal on the shore of the Canadian island. In a brief time the party was once more in American waters and as it was still early in the morning, preparations were soon made for the sport of the day. The Gadabout was anchored in a little cove and the mate, with Fred and John, as the members of his party, took one of the skiffs, while Grant and George together with the captain departed in the other. It was agreed that they should meet at a certain place for luncheon and the rivalry was keen as to which boat should have the bigger catch of fish. “Look out for us!” called Fred as his boat drew away from that in which his companions were being carried. “Look out for us! If you hear a whistle you’ll know we will need help.” “To catch your fish?” laughed Grant. “No, to bring them in. We’ll have a boat-load, anyway.” In high spirits the boys soon were ready for the sport of the day, and it was not long before neither boat was within sight of the other. When the noon hour arrived, still excited and hungry, the two boats were landed at the place agreed upon and the captain at once displayed his skill as a cook. “Isn’t it wonderful!” said George, not long after they were seated about the folding table which the captain had brought in the Gadabout. “Isn’t it wonderful the amount of food a fellow can put himself outside of?” “It is that,” mumbled John, who was as busy as any of his comrades. “It pays for it all, now.” “Of course it pays,” laughed Fred. “That’s what we’re here for. Honest, Grant, who caught that big pickerel?” “I did,” responded Grant proudly. “I cannot tell a lie, I caught it with my little hook and line.” “I’ll ask the captain about that later. I saw some other boats up there where you were and I am going to ask them how much they charged for the fish they sold you.” “They didn’t sell us any fish!” retorted George indignantly. “Another boy that cannot tell a lie. No wonder they call you the papa of your country. What do we do this afternoon?” “I’m going to take you to another place,” explained the captain, who throughout the meal had been busied in attending to the numerous wants of the boys. “Shall we get more fish than we did this morning?” “That depends,” said the captain solemnly. “Some people do and some don’t. It mostly depends on whether they are any good with the rod.” “Don’t you think we’re good?” demanded Fred. “Huh!” retorted the captain. “Maybe you will be some day. Most of the fish you got this morning were hooked so that they couldn’t have got off the hook. There’s a big difference between catching a fish that way, and getting one with just a hook through his lip. It takes some skill then.” “All right, captain, just as you say. You show us the right ground and we’ll do the rest.” “Maybe you will and maybe you won’t,” retorted the captain as he turned away to prepare dinner for himself and his mate. When afternoon came, the Gadabout took the two skiffs once more in tow and swiftly carried them seven miles farther, where the wonderful ground described by the captain was located. As soon as the anchor was dropped, the skiffs, arranged as in the morning, sought the place where the marvelous fishing was to be had. Apparently the words of the captain were in a measure fulfilled for so busy were the four young fishermen that not one of them was aware of the increasing distance between the boat in which he was fishing and the one which carried his comrades. It was late in the afternoon when Fred suddenly looked up and said, “It’s getting late, Jack. We ought to be going back to the boat. I don’t see it anywhere, do you?” “You mean the skiff in which Grant and George are fishing?” “Yes.” “No, I don’t see them,” said John slowly, after he had glanced all about him. “I don’t see the Gadabout either.” “Well, the mate knows where it is,” said Fred easily. “I hope the other fellows won’t get into any trouble, for there’s a storm coming up.” As he spoke, Fred pointed to some clouds that rapidly were approaching in the sky directly overhead. They were black, angry clouds too, and the frequent flashes of lightning were followed by reports of thunder that at first had been so low as scarcely to be noticed. Now, however, the sounds were threatening and the oarsman, bidding the two boys reel in their lines at once, began to row swiftly toward the point behind which the Gadabout was anchored. In a few moments, however, the calm waters had become rough. Whitecaps were to be seen all about them and the boys glanced anxiously at each other. The wind too had risen now, but instead of blowing steadily across the waters, it was coming in puffs. “We’re in for it, Jack,” said Fred anxiously. His companion made no reply, though the frequent glances he cast at the sky indicated that he too was becoming anxious for their safety. “Don’t you want me to help?” inquired John as he glanced at the oarsman. The mate shook his head in response and it was plain that he was exerting all his strength in his efforts to keep the boat headed in the direction in which it had started. “There comes the rain,” exclaimed John, as some heavy drops fell upon them and the nearby water was becoming more and more disturbed. “Take one of these oars,” called the mate sharply, as he spoke rising with difficulty from his seat and placing one oar in another oarlock. “We’ll have all we can do to make the point.” By this time both boys were thoroughly aroused. The rain was falling in torrents and both were drenched to their skins. Such a plight, however, was hardly to be noticed in the presence of the danger that now beset them. In spite of their efforts the wind was driving them away from the point. More and more the boys did their utmost but their efforts were in vain. At last the mate shouted, “There’s nothing for it, boys, except to run for it. Sit down and we’ll let the gale drive us across to the other shore.” The Canadian island was nearby and the shore could not be more than two miles distant, as both boys learned from their oarsman. However, it was with white and set faces that they followed his directions and each took his seat as he was bidden. Swiftly the boat was driven before the wind, the mate exerting himself only to keep the light, little skiff headed in the right direction. So black were the clouds that already the boys were surrounded by darkness almost like that of night. Neither was able to see the shore toward which they were headed. The mate, however, appeared to be more confident than he had been while he was seeking to drive the boat against the wind. Swiftly and still more swiftly the frail little craft sped forward. No one spoke in the brief interval between the crashes of thunder. The streaks of the lightning seemed to fall directly into the waters of the lake and at times the boys believed themselves to be surrounded by fire. Never had either been in such peril before. Fred had sunk into his seat so that only his head appeared above the gunwale. John, whose seat was in the stern of the skiff, was so tall that he was unable to follow the example of his friend and was clinging tenaciously to the sides of the boat. Meanwhile, the mate successfully keeping the skiff headed for the shore, was watchful of every movement of his passengers. When ten minutes had elapsed it was manifest that the anxiety of the oarsman was increasing, as they drew near the shore. Without explaining his purpose he did his utmost to change the direction so that they would move in a course parallel to the shore, but, labor as he might, he was unable to accomplish his purpose. Directly upon the rocky border of Cockburn Island the gale was driving the little boat. Once more the mate exerted his strength to his utmost as he strove to guide the little skiff toward a cove not far away. For a time it seemed as if his efforts were to succeed. But at that moment the wind became even stronger than before and the howling of the tempest increased. The boys had a sudden vision of an opening in the rocky shore, then there was a crash and both found themselves struggling in the water. When they arose to the surface they saw that before them the waters were still. The sheltered cove promised a degree of safety such as a moment before they had scarcely dared to hope for. Fishing rods, coats, cooking utensils, tackle, all things had been thrown into the water when the boat had struck the jutting rock. All these facts, however, were ignored in the efforts of both boys to gain the beach before them, for they now could see a sandy stretch not more than forty feet in length that marked the limit of the waters. And it was only twenty yards away. “All right, Fred?” called John as he swam near his friend. “All right,” sputtered Fred. “How is it with you?” “I’m all right here. Have you seen the mate?” “Yes, he’s ahead of us.” Even as he spoke the mate could be seen rising to his feet in the shallower waters and a moment later he gained the refuge of the sandy beach. It was not long before the boys also gained the same place of safety, although before their arrival the oarsman had disappeared from sight. As soon as the boys stood on the shore they shook themselves much as dogs might do when they come out of the water and then in a moment the thought of the peril of their friends came back to their minds. “What do you suppose has happened to Grant and George?” said Fred in a low voice. “I think they must be all right,” replied John, although his expression of confidence was belied by the tones of his voice. “What shall we do?” “Better go up on the bluff. Perhaps there we’ll see the Gadabout or the skiff. They must have been driven in the same direction that we were.” “I don’t think so. You see the Gadabout was in the lee of that point. The last I saw of the skiff it was on the other side of the point too. I think that Grant and George probably have gone back to the Gadabout and are all right. Very likely they are talking about us at this very minute and are scared at what may have happened.” “Can’t we signal them?” inquired Fred anxiously. “Signal them? No. We haven’t anything to signal with in the first place and they can’t see us in the second.” “The storm is going down,” suggested Fred. “They say the lake up here gets quiet almost as quickly as it gets stirred up.” “It can’t get quiet any too soon to suit me,” said John dryly. “Where’s the mate?” “I don’t know. I don’t see him anywhere.” Both boys looked carefully along the shore, but no trace of the missing oarsmen was discovered. The rain had ceased by this time and the sky was clearing. Not a sign of the presence of the Gadabout was to be seen on the waters before them. The oarsmen had disappeared and each boy for a moment gazed anxiously at his companion. “Look yonder!” said John, suddenly pointing as he spoke to a spot in the direction of the interior of the island. “What is it?” said Fred. “Why, there’s a house up yonder. Don’t you see it?” “You mean a shanty?” “I don’t care what you call it, but I see smoke coming out of the chimney. We’ll go up there and get somebody to help us.” Moved by a common impulse both boys started in the direction of the strange house. Neither was aware that they were entering upon an experience that was to be as mysterious as it was trying. |
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