Part 22 (1/2)

He showed his worried face at the hatchway, adding:

”The tank's empty! The last drops of gasoline are running into the motor!”

”What's that?” demanded Tom aghast. ”How could that have happened?”

”I don't know,” was Joe's bewildered response. ”The tank was half-full when we got back from Wood's Hole early this morning. But now it's empty. Look for yourself.”

The propeller shaft made a few faint turns, then stopped. Having little headway by this time the ”Meteor” soon began to drift aimlessly over the rolling waters.

”I don't need to look,” Tom answered, dropping his hand from the wheel ”I can see enough to believe you, Joe. But how on earth could this have happened, Joe?”

”It didn't happen without some one tampering with the tank,” Joe exploded resentfully. ”There's no leak in the tank. We should, by rights, have oil enough to run to New York and back.”

There being nothing now that he could do in the engine room, Dawson stepped moodily up on deck. The girls watched Captain Tom's face. Mrs.

Lester, her curiosity aroused by the stopping of speed, attempted to come forward along the deck. The rolling of the craft made this so dangerous for her that Jed sprang forward, piloting her safely forward.

There the situation was soon made plain to the frightened mother.

”What are we going to do?” she asked.

”I don't know,” Tom asked, the gla.s.s to his eyes, as he looked over the rolling waters. ”Had our gasoline held out we could have made the pier with time to spare.”

”Is there real danger, then?” demanded Mrs. Lester, her face betraying her great alarm.

”There's a northeast blow, and a big one, going to strike us within half an hour,” the young skipper replied. ”And there's not a craft in sight I can signal to. Our anchors wouldn't hold in the blow that's coming.”

”Can't you signal the Dunstan place?” asked the much-alarmed lady.

”Yes, but I doubt if they could see our signals, our mast is so low and the distance so great.”

”But they have that steam launch there. If you could make them understand, captain, they could send the launch out to us.”

”The launch is too small a craft to face the blow that's coming,” Tom rejoined gravely. ”Besides, Mr. Dunstan has no one who knows anything about handling a marine steam engine. If you ladies will go into the cabin--”

”And feel like rats in a trap while there's danger!” remonstrated Mrs.

Lester. ”Oh, please don't ask us to leave the deck. We'll feel safer here. At least we shall be able to see what's happening.”

”Get the lifelines, Joe, and rig them quickly,” spoke Tom gravely. ”Jed, help me to get the anchors overboard. We'll do everything we can.”

While the boys worked like beavers the wind came down upon them with ever-increasing force. At first the anchors held, the ”Meteor” straining at her cables.

”Here comes a squall!” shouted Tom, suddenly. ”Catch hold! Hold fast!

We'll soon know about our anchors.”

As the squall struck, the ”Meteor” heeled over. The ladies screamed with fright. Even the motor boat boys felt the thrill of dread. The boat rolled as though she were going to turn turtle. Then, slowly, she righted herself.

”One of the cables has parted!” shouted Jed, through the increasing tempest.