  Three days elapsed during which Brad, Dan and the other Cubs spent much time at the “Y” and at the river practicing for the final swimming meet of the year with Den 1. Annoyed by the manner in which they had been treated by Paper Bag Eddie and his friend “Frisk,” the two Cubs interested themselves in making a few inquiries along the waterfront. They learned that a sailor by the last name of Fagan frequently was seen with Eddie. Although known to have no employment, he was reported always with enough money in his pocket. “I’m as sure as anything Fagan was in the motorboat that struck us,” Dan repeated to Brad one afternoon when the two boys were at the river preparing for a swim. “I suspect that was why he acted so sore in the cafe. He was afraid we’d accuse him.” Since their meeting with Paper Bag Eddie and the sailor, the two Cubs had not seen either of them again. Nor had they glimpsed Mr. Manheim’s boat or any that resembled it. On this particular afternoon, Mr. Holloway had promised to take Brad, Dan and Midge for a sail. Four o’clock, the hour appointed for their meeting at the Yacht Club dock, came and went. Finally, Mr. Holloway telephoned from his office to say that he had been held up and would be unable to make the excursion. “There’s no reason why you boys can’t take the boat by yourselves,” he urged. “You’re both experienced at handling the tiller, and good swimmers. Go ahead! Only don’t go too far from the Yacht Club. A storm could kick up before dusk.” Fortifying themselves with bottles of pop, Dan and Brad hoisted sail and cast off. With Brad at the tiller, they sailed down the channel, past Fish Island, and on toward Skeleton Island. They had been anxious to explore this island for some time. Dan lounged in the bottom of the boat, lazily sipping his drink. “Let’s sail all the way around Skeleton Island,” he proposed. “Okay?” “Sure, if we have time,” Brad agreed, glancing at the darkening sky. “Those clouds are rolling up rather fast though. We might have rain in a couple of hours.” “We’ll make it back before then,” Dan replied, stretching luxuriously. “The breeze is just right now.” In a long tack, they crossed to the far shore of the river and came about, pointing toward Skeleton Island. As Dan dropped an empty pop bottle overboard, he noticed a mahogany motorboat almost directly opposite the island. The craft had pulled up along shore, its motor idle. The boy was unable to see the occupants or to obtain a clear view of the boat itself, for it lay half-hidden in a clump of bushes. “That boat looks a little like Mr. Manheim’s,” he remarked, calling Brad’s attention to it. “Wonder what it’s doing over there? No one appears to be fishing.” Holding the sailboat to its course, the two Cubs kept watch of the idle motorboat. Though they were too far away to be certain the craft was Mr. Manheim’s, they thought it bore a marked resemblance to the craft operated by Wilson Jabowski. Presently, as the boys watched, they saw someone aboard the motorboat lower and raise a red flag three times in succession. “What’s the idea of that?” Dan demanded, all attention. “They’re signaling!” “To someone on Skeleton Island,” Brad added quietly. Dan turned his gaze toward the island beach. A man stood there, apparently focusing his attention upon the motorboat. In answer to the signal, he raised and lowered his arm three times. “What goes?” Brad muttered. For awhile, the Cubs witnessed nothing more of interest. The man on the beach vanished from their range of vision, while the motorboat remained in the clump of bushes. “Guess there’s nothing more to see,” Dan remarked in disappointment. “Yes, there is!” Brad corrected, bringing the sailboat closer into the wind. “Listen!” The two boys distinctly could hear the putt-putt-putt of a gasoline engine. For a minute they could not localize the sound. Then, from the far shoulder of the island, they saw a flat gasoline-propelled raft scooting across the river. “That looks like Jabowski,” Dan observed. “And he’s heading straight toward the motorboat! Can we get closer, Brad?” “Unless the breeze shifts it will take us two or three tacks to come even with the island.” “And by that time, there may be nothing to see,” Dan grumbled. “I sure wish we had a pair of binoculars!” Dividing their attention between pressing more speed out of their own craft, and watching the raft, the boys begrudged the time it took to make the long tack. The raft, they noted, moved directly to the waiting motorboat. What transpired at the meeting place, they were unable to see. So intent were the Cubs on watching the boat and raft, that they paid scant heed to the low cumulus clouds which had gathered close to the horizon. Black underneath and hard-edged, they were moving up fast from the leeward! The Cubs, however, were elated because a stiffening breeze rapidly bore them toward Skeleton Island. Now they could discern two men aboard the motorboat. Though they could not see the face of the man on the raft, they were convinced he was Jabowski. “What do you figure they’re doing?” Dan speculated. “And who are those men that have Mr. Manheim’s speedboat?” “Maybe it isn’t his,” Brad replied. “I’d say it’s the same length and make though.” Apparently observing the approach of the sailboat, the raft began to pull away from the motor craft. At that same moment, a dead calm fell upon the river. Startled, Brad raised his eye to the sail which had been drawing well. Now it had slumped into listless, discouraged folds. “Just our luck!” Dan muttered in disgust. “The breeze plays out!” “It’s worse than that,” Brad said, thoroughly alarmed. “We’re in the calm that precedes a bad thunderstorm!” Both the sky and the water had taken on a dark cast. Although not a breath of air stirred, heavy waves pounded against the drifting boat. “Gosh, we’re a long ways from shore too!” Dan said in dismay. “Skeleton Island is the closest point of land. Think we can make it before the storm breaks?” “Not a chance,” Brad muttered. “She’s coming now!” Across the water they could see a misty sheet of water descending. “There will be wind in a minute! Plenty of it! Dan! Help me get the sail down before it strikes us.” Working with all speed, the boys lowered the sail from the mast. Before they could furl it, the wind struck, throwing the boat far over on its side. Dan’s Cub cap was lifted from his head, and carried far down river. For a moment it floated on the surface, and then slowly sank out of sight. Dan scrambled to fasten down all other loose objects. Rain now was coming down in a torrent. Unable to see many feet ahead of them, the boys lost sight of the raft and the motorboat. For a time they could hear the chug-chug of the raft’s engine, and then all sound except the howl of the wind died away. “This is awful!” Dan exclaimed as a vivid streak of lightning cut across the dark sky. “Let’s strike for Skeleton Island. We can find shelter there, at least.” He reached for the paddle. Already the strong wind was propelling the boat in the general direction of the island. At the tiller, Brad guided the craft more by instinct than sight. Wind and rain had blotted out all view of the shore. Finally, the shadowy island loomed up. Worn out from hard paddling, Dan put on a last burst of energy which drove the boat onto the sandy beach. Leaping out, he and Brad pulled the craft high up on the sand beyond reach of the waves. Then they raced for the shelter of a heavily wooded section some distance back from the beach. “Jabowski lives in the caretaker’s quarters at the other end of the island,” Brad remarked, huddling against the trunk of a sheltering oak. “We might go there.” “I’d rather wait here, Brad. This storm shouldn’t last long. Then we can hoist canvas and sail back to the clubhouse.” Already the rain had slackened. The Cubs waited twenty minutes under the trees. By that time the downpour had dwindled to a drizzle. Then they made their way back through the dripping bushes to the beach. “Hey! Where’s our boat?” Dan demanded, stopping short. The stretch of beach where the craft had been left less than thirty minutes before, now was deserted. “But the boat can’t be gone!” Brad exclaimed, refusing to believe his eyes. “We pulled it well up on the sand before we took shelter! The waves weren’t high enough to have washed it away!” “Well, it’s gone all right. And there it is, Brad.” Dan pointed two hundred yards from shore where the empty sailboat drifted aimlessly. Slowly the craft was being carried downstream by the current. The Cubs stared at it in stunned dismay. Without the sailboat, they were stranded on Skeleton Island! |
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