Motor Boat Boys Down the Coast Part 9
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THE CAMP INVADED.
"Why, fellows, this is dead easy!" George called out, after they had been making good time for an hour or more, with the heaving sea showing no sign of taking undue advantage of the confiding little motor boats that had ventured on its placid bosom.
"Just as I told you," Jack answered, for they made sure to keep pretty close to each other while undertaking this pa.s.sage. "Choose the right time, after a storm with the wind and sea gone to rest, and a little run like this is a picnic."
"But she looks pretty wide out there," remarked Nick, pointing toward the east.
"Oh! not so much," laughed Herb. "I should think that a matter of four thousand miles or so would cover it."
"Gee! whiz! that must be Africa over there, then?" Nick gasped.
"That's right!" Jack called; "but there's a trifle of haze hanging out just at present, so you can't quite see the tropical sh.o.r.es, with the black natives dancing around some missionary. But joking aside, boys, I think we're going to make the riffle without any trouble. Already we must be well on the way there, and no sign of wind yet."
"Perhaps when she does come it may be in the west?" suggested Josh, who did occasionally have a brilliant thought, it seemed.
"Just so, and in that case we'd be all hunky," Jack answered back; "because with a west wind we could creep in close to the sh.o.r.e, since there'd be no waves rolling up on the beach. Suppose we touch up for a little faster gait."
"I'm willing," George sent back. "Put it up to the _Comfort_ as usual.
We'll have to adapt our pace to what she can do."
"Yes," called out Josh from the roomy boat, "and consider yourself lucky, George, if you don't have to call on the old Ark to give you a tow before we cross that same bar at the inlet. It wouldn't be the first time; and it ain't goin' to be the last either, believe me!"
"Oh! shucks! my engine is running as smooth as silk now. I could make circles around the whole bunch if I wanted to; but what's the use?
We'd better stick together, you know. Somebody might want a little help."
"Sure, somebody might," mocked Josh.
Jack had let Jimmy have the wheel. With his gla.s.ses he was scrutinizing the sh.o.r.e line as they made steady progress. He felt sure that he would be able to discover the right inlet long before they arrived at a point where they must alter their course in order to cross that bar which is always found at such openings.
Drawing the small amount of water their boats did, he antic.i.p.ated not the slightest trouble in getting over. So as they increased their pace somewhat, Jack divided his time between watching the sh.o.r.e and the sky.
Wind was something that would oblige them by remaining away.
They had figured on taking three hours to make the run; but it was nearer four, owing to the fact that there were some miles to pa.s.s over in leaving the creek where they had spent the preceding night, and reaching the open sea; and also because they had to go out some distance.
Jack sighted the inlet for which they were so anxiously pressing, and when the three motor boats had crossed the bar, gaining the security that lay behind the sandspits, all of them breathed easier. That night they would not see the flas.h.i.+ng of the Henlopen light, or catch the distant gleam of the famous mariner's beacon on the point at Cape May, for they were many miles to the south, and the glow of Chincoteague Light closer at hand.
But for some time at least they need not think of danger from a rising sea. If troubles were fated to come, as was almost inevitable, they were apt to be of an entirely different character. Perhaps they would get aground in shallow waters; it might be there would be times when the little flotilla would become lost in some intricate channels connecting the numerous bays that parallel the coast, and which are by degrees being dredged by the Government, with the idea of at some dim future date having an inland coast ca.n.a.l by which even small vessels of war may pa.s.s north and south.
Again, Jack had before him his chart, printed by the Department at Was.h.i.+ngton, and supposed to be perfectly reliable as to depth of water, position of lights and shoals, the lay of the many sinuous creeks, and all such important matters upon which the voyager over these sounds must depend for safe progress.
"Looky there, what's that over yonder on the water--gulls?" called Nick, after they had been moving along in procession for some time, the _Tramp_ leading the way--for George realized that he must curb his speed propensity while navigating these deceptive shallow waters, unless he wanted to take chances of wrecking his beloved craft on an unseen oyster reef, or a sandbar that lay just below the surface.
"I reckon they're ducks," quoth Josh, after a look. "How about it, Jack?"
Jack did not have to even make use of the gla.s.ses before replying in the affirmative.
Nick was all excitement at once.
"Say, why can't we sneak up on 'em, and knock about six on the head?"
he hastened to demand; and then stooped down to drag out George's shotgun; at which the others shouted to him to be careful, for he was making the boat wobble fearfully.
"Well, we might give them a try," said Jack, with a smile; "but even if we did manage to bag a bunch, I reckon now, you wouldn't think them worth cooking."
"Why not; I've heard that even fishy ducks can be eaten, if you take the trouble to draw the feathers and skin off together?" Nick declared.
"Which is correct, all right, as far as it goes," Jack continued, placidly; "but I'd defy even such an expert as Josh here, to cook those ducks so as to disguise the woody flavor!"
"Haw! haw! haw! Jack means they're only a bunch of wooden decoys--stool ducks!" roared Josh, some of the others echoing his merriment. "Perhaps you c'n digest pretty near anything, you're such a walking cemetery, Nick; but I bet you draw the line at a wooden duck, hey?"
Nick relapsed into silence, but George took up the talk.
"Ain't this early in October for duck hunting, Jack? Some of the States don't allow it till November, you know," he inquired, seeking information.
"Yes; and perhaps this fellow is only giving his stools an airing, after all, to see how they float; because the main raft of ducks won't be here till later."
During the day they landed at one or two docks, where the customary groups of staring natives surrounded them, asking questions, examining the clever little craft beside which their own looked c.u.mbersome, though sea-worthy, and giving such a sad mixture of information that in the end Jack was glad he had his reliable charts to fall back on, since one man's account seemed to be exactly contradictory in comparison with the next one.
The boys believed that it would be wise to halt for the night away from any of the settlements along the sound or bay. Perhaps these rough looking fellows might be all right, and just as honest as they make them; but previous experiences had warned Jack and his chums that there are always some bad characters belonging in every isolated town and hamlet; and there was no use tempting such rascals more than seemed necessary.
Accordingly, when the afternoon drew near its end, they began to cast about for a camping place. To the delight of Nick they had been able to pick up a duck here and there, until there were now four on board.
"If we could only get a brace more," he kept saying; "or even one might do, as Josh eats so little; how nice it would be. Jack, don't you suppose, now, you might creep up behind that island yonder, drop ash.o.r.e, since the law forbids one to shoot ducks from a craft driven by sails or any motive power except a fellow's muscles, and get a shot into the lovely little bunch that is sporting there?"
"Anything to oblige," was the response;
and with that the head of the _Tramp_ was turned aside, so that the skipper could presently jump ash.o.r.e.
His crawl across the reedy island was not as pleasant as one might wish; but when he fired both barrels at the rising flock, Nick nearly laughed himself sick to see not only two, but five birds fall with as many splashes into the water.
One wounded duck managed to get away. Jack declared it must have dived, and held on to some of the eel gra.s.s at the bottom, preferring death to falling into the hands of duck-eating human beings; for this often happens, as every hunter knows.
Again an oven was to be made, and they hoped to have a feast for the next day.
"What's to hinder our sleeping on sh.o.r.e tonight, fellows?" asked Josh, as they found a pretty good place for a camp.
"Oh! please do!" cried poor, tortured Nick; "I'd love to rest comfy for just once again."
"Huh!" grunted stubborn George, "that suits me first rate, because I insist on keeping to my quarters aboard, and there'll be plenty of room. Besides, I won't wake up every little while when you roll over, thinking the boat is going to turn turtle."
Upon being put to a vote, five of them were in favor of trying it. So about the time they began to feel sleepy, blankets were brought from the boats, and each fellow started to make himself as comfortable as possible under the circ.u.mstances.
Jack had selected his sleeping place with an eye to its convenience; also the fact that by raising himself on his elbow he could have a survey of the entire camp, counting the three boats. And it might have been noticed that both he and Herb made sure to take their guns to bed with them, a fact Nick saw with a bit of uneasiness.
The _Tramp_ and the _Comfort_ were both fastened up, for it was possible to lock their cabins in an emergency. George was under his canvas shelter, trying to make himself believe he fully enjoyed the sensation of loneliness.
Finally a silence came over the camp on the sh.o.r.e. The fire died down gradually, for no one bothered to keep it going, the night being anything but cold.
Jack was always a light sleeper. He had trained himself to awaken if there was anything unusual going on. And when he suddenly opened his eyes, seeing the stars over his head, he knew instinctively that it was not far from daybreak. He also had a sort of intuition that there was some one or _something_ moving close by.
Motor Boat Boys Down the Coast Part 9
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Motor Boat Boys Down the Coast Part 9 summary
You're reading Motor Boat Boys Down the Coast Part 9. This novel has been translated by Updating. Author: Louis Arundel already has 713 views.
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