Part 36 (1/2)

”What's this?” he asked of Captain Sanders.

”No telling, lad,” was the grave reply. ”Looks like a pretty big blow.”

”More like a hurricane!” snorted old Billy Dill. ”The wind is growin'

wuss each minit!”

”Draw that boat up into the bushes and fasten it well,” ordered the captain. ”We don't want to have it stove in or floated off by the breakers.” And the rowboat was carried to a place of safety.

”Where is the s.h.i.+p?” asked Roger.

”Slipped away when the blow came up,” answered the captain. ”An' I hope the mate knows enough to keep away,” he added, gravely.

Soon it started to rain, first a few scattering drops and then a perfect deluge. The castaways spoke of a cave that was near by, and all hurried in that direction, taking the stores from the boat with them.

”How long will this last, do you think?” asked Phil, of the master of the _Golden Eagle_.

”No telling. Maybe only to-day, maybe several days.”

”If it last several days, we'll have a time of it getting food,” broke in the senator's son.

”We'll watch out for fish and turtles,” said Billy Dill. ”Nothin' like turtles when you are good an' hungry.”

”That's true,” answered Dave. He had not forgotten the big turtle the old tar had managed to catch down on one of the islands in the South Seas.

Soon it was raining so hard that but little could be seen beyond the entrance to the cave. The wind moaned and shrieked throughout the cavern, which happened to have several entrances. Once it became so strong that it almost lifted the boys from their feet. The rain drove in at times, and they had to get into a split in the rocks to keep dry.

”Hark! what was that?” cried Roger, during a lull in the wind.

”I heard thunder; that's all,” answered Phil.

”I think a tree must have been struck by lightning,” answered Captain Sanders. ”The lightning is getting pretty fierce,” he added, as a brilliant illumination filled the cavern.

”Wonder where Jasniff and Merwell are?” whispered Phil, to his chums, ”I'll wager this storm scares 'em half to death.”

”Yes, and those four Englishmen,” added Dave. ”Don't forget that they were coming to this island.”

Slowly the hours of the morning dragged by. There was no let-up in the hurricane, for such it really proved to be. The wind blew strongly all the time, but occasionally would come a heavy blast that fairly made the island tremble. The lightning had died away somewhat, but now and then would come a great flash, followed by a crash and rumble that would echo and reecho among the rocks.

”Just look at the ocean!” cried Dave, as he and his chums walked to one corner of the entrance to gaze out.

”The waves seem to be mountain-high,” returned Phil. ”You wouldn't think it possible a s.h.i.+p could live on such a sea.”

”Well, it is mighty dangerous, Phil; you know that as well as I do.”

”I hope the _Golden Eagle_ weathers the storm.”

”We all hope that.”

Dinner was a rather scanty meal, cooked with great difficulty in a hollow of the rocks. The smoke from the fire rolled and swirled in all directions, nearly blinding everybody. But the repast was better than nothing, and n.o.body grumbled.