o terrified to speak, while
Tubby and Merritt strove desperately to keep the little craft from
"broaching to," in which case she would have shipped more water than
would have been at all convenient, not to say safe.

As if it were some vindictive live thing, seized with a sudden spite
against the boat and its occupants, the storm roared about the dazed
boys.

The Flying Fish, however, rode the sweeping seas gallantly, breasting
even the biggest combers bravely and buoyantly.

"It's getting worse," shouted Tubby, gazing back at Merritt, who was
bending over the laboring motor.

"Yes, you bet it is!" roared back the engineer; "and I'm afraid of a
short circuit if this rain keeps up."

"Cover up the engine with that spare slicker," suggested Tubby.

"That's a good idea," responded the other, rummaging in a stern locker
and producing the garment in question. In another moment he had it over
the engine, protecting the spark plugs and the high-tension wires from
the rain and spray. But the wind was too high to permit of the
covering remaining unfastened, and with a ball of marlin the young
engineer lashed the improvised motor cover firmly in place.

Hiram, with a white face, now crawled up from the bottom of the boat.
In addition to being scared, he was seasick from the eccentric motions
of the storm-tossed craft.

"Do you think we'll ever get ashore again?" he asked, crawling to
Merritt's side.

"Sure," responded the corporal confidently. "'Come on, buck up, Hiram!
You know, a Boy Scout never says die. We'll be back in camp in three
hours' time, when this squall blows itself out."

"I--I don't want you to think me a coward, Merritt," quavered Hiram,
"but--but you know this is enough to scare any fellow."

Indeed, he seemed right. The Flying Fish appeared no more than a tiny
chip on the immense rollers the storm had blown up. Time and again it
looked as if she would never be able to climb the huge walls of green
water that towered above her; but every time she did, and, as the storm
raged on, the confidence of the boys began to grow.

"She'll ride it out, Tubby!" yelled Merritt, dousing the engine with
more oil.

"Sure she will!" yelled back Tubby, with a confidence that was,
however, largely assumed. The stout youth had just been assailed by an
alarming thought that flashed across his mind.

"Would the gasoline hold out?"

There was no opportunity on the plunging, bucking craft to examine the
tank, an