90 



RECREATION. 



pot of coffee and chicken sandwiches which 

 I had prepared were delicious. Neverthe- 

 less, we missed Tom, for he is a good fel- 

 low except in a heavy sea. 



The afternoon we read, smoked and 

 loafed, for we were prisoners aboard our 

 boat, since the dinghy, our only means of 

 getting ashore, was tied up at the wharf. 

 Tom did not arrive until late, and had 

 evidently been seeing the town. 



When the flagship of the small fleet of 

 yachts in the bay fired the sunset gun, we, 

 too, hauled down our pennant and hung 

 out our light. Then we made preparations 

 for the storm. We inspected the anchor 

 and cable, made fast all halyards, and 

 stowed away odds and ends. We next 

 slung our tarpaulin over the boom, thus 

 making a tent-like covering for the after 

 cockpit. Into this cozy little den we 

 crawled, lighted the lantern, and settled 

 ourselves among the cushions and blank- 

 ets. Out came pipes and tobacco. As we 

 lay there dreamily smoking and talking, 

 sweet strains of music and the gay laugh- 

 ter of dancers drifted in from the Casino 

 up the harbor ; wavelets clicked mer- 

 rily against the sides of the boat, and soon 

 drops of rain pattered gently on the roof 

 above. Our cup of happiness was full 

 to overflowing. It was then, in our 

 ecstasy, tha.t we voted cruising a complete 

 success. 



"Douse the glim !" called out Tom. "I 

 am going to bunk." 



Before Rob and I could remonstrate, he 

 had blown out the light, leaving us in total 

 darkness. He was sorry a moment later, 

 to judge from the remarks he made as we 

 stumbled over him on our way out to take 

 a peep at the weather before we should 

 turn in. 



The night was of inky blackness. The 

 wind had shifted to Southeast, and was 

 blowing steadily at 10 knots. There was an 

 ominous singing in the rigging, and the 

 halyards were whipping angrily back and 

 forth. 



"I don't fancy this music aloft." said the 

 captain. "If I am not much mistaken, we 

 are going to have a disagreeable night. 



The lights of vessels that had made shel- 

 ter after nightfall were brightly glimmer- 

 ing all about us. There was one only a 

 few rods to windward. 



"I wish those fellows had chosen a dif- 

 ferent anchoring ground," the captain re- 

 marked, referring to the vessel ahead. 



"It would go hard with us if she 

 should drag," I added. 



I did not fall asleep so quickly as the 

 others. The stimulating effects of strong 

 coffee and tobacco, together with worry 

 over the coming storm, kept my brain ac- 

 tive. Several times I arose and peered out. 

 Each time I noticed a change for the worse. 



The wind was increasing and it was still 

 raining. After several hours of wakeful- 

 ness I must have fallen into a doze, for I 

 was suddenly startled by a violent lurch 

 of the boat. I sprang up, lit a match and 

 looked at the clock. The light awoke the 

 captain. It was half-past one. 



The Stingaree was rolling and tossing 

 fearfully. Every once in a while there 

 was a tremendous tug at the anchor. 

 The boat would shiver as if struck 

 by a blow. Then she would lie quiet a 

 second and, recovering, would again leap 

 to the nexf^wave. This was repeated over 

 and over as the billows struck and 

 passed under. The rain was coming down 

 in torrents. The cabin roof had begun to 

 leak. A small rivulet was sportively chas- 

 ing its way down the chin of our slumber- 

 ing comrade. 



"Poor fellow," remarked Rob. "He has 

 had a hard time of it to-day, and must be 

 tired if he can sleep amid such surround- 

 ings." 



Suddenly, breaking in through the tu- 

 mult of the elements, came a faint cry. 



"Boat, ahoy!" 



We scrambled out on deck. We were 

 sorry a moment later that we did not have 

 on our bathing suits. The spray was com- 

 ing over the bow in sheets. Clinging to 

 the boom, we made our way forward over 

 the cabin roof, while the boat was tossing 

 about like an egg-shell. Reaching the mast, 

 we seized the halyards and held on for 

 dear life. We could barely discern the 

 dim outlines of a small vessel. Our sur- 

 misings in the early part of the evening 

 had come true. She was dragging and 

 drifting fast. If she struck us, it meant 

 disaster. We would either go to the bot- 

 tom on the spot or be dashed to pieces on 

 the breakwater astern. 



"Hello! What's the trouble?" 



There was Tom poking his head out of 

 the tarpaulin. During the excitement of 

 the moment we had forgotten him. His 

 position was exceedingly dangerous if the 

 boat should go down. 



"For heaven's sake, get out of there and 

 come on deck," thundered the captain. 



Tom crawled out and made his way gin- 

 gerly toward us. It was a ticklish moment 

 for us all. The roar of the storm, the 

 swash of the waves, the downpouring of 

 the rain, and the drifting vessel, drawing 

 nigh all too speedily, were sufficient to 

 cause the stoutest heart to quail. 



The captain stood with the cable in his 

 hand, after taking several turns around the 

 mast, ready to let it run quickly out when 

 the collision occurred, and thus lessen the 

 force of the shock. The stranger was hold- 

 ing directly for us. There seemed no 

 chance of escape. We waited in breathless 



