With a quick motion Jerry shut off the power, and the Ripper drifted through the mist, slowly losing headway. The sound of the bell became more distinct, and in a little while something dark loomed up before the anxious eyes of the boys and girls.
“Lookout! She’s going to hit!” cried Ned.
“That’s the buoy,” declared Nellie.
“What’s its location?” asked Jerry. “Can’t we get our bearings from it?”
“Well, it’s about eight miles off shore, I’ve heard the fishermen say,” replied Nellie, “and it’s about four miles down the coast from San Felicity.”
“It doesn’t seem as if we came as far as that,” said Bob.
“This is a very fast boat,” commented Rose.
“Is the buoy anchored to rocks?” asked Ned.
“No, it’s on a dangerous shoal,” answered Olivia “But there is no harm from that source to be feared to this boat, as it doesn’t draw much water.”
“It ought to be easy enough to start in the right direction for San Felicity, with this buoy to guide us,” suggested Bob. “Can’t you, Jerry.”
“I guess so, if you think it will be safe to travel in the fog.”
“No, don’t,” urged Nellie. “I’m afraid we might have a collision. I don’t know much about this bay, and there are dangerous places in it, I’ve heard the fishermen say. We had better stay here until the fog lifts.”
“That’s what I think,” agreed Rose and Olivia.
Bob and Ned, however, were for going on, but Jerry rather sided with the girls.
“Well,” he finally said, in answer to the urging of his two chums, “Which way would you say the dock was, Ned?”
“Off there,” and Ned pointed over the port rail.
“No, you’re wrong,” declared Bob. “It’s there,” and he indicated the opposite direction.
“There, you see,” remarked Jerry. “It can’t be both ways. The fog has you puzzled, just as it has me. We should have looked at the compass when we started out. Maybe the girls can advise us.”
But they, too, were equally at loss regarding in what direction San Felicity lay.
“We’ll have to drift around a bit,” decided Jerry. “It’s not very pleasant, but it’s better than running any chances.”
In spite of their dismal situation the boys and girls managed to extract a good deal of fun out of their experience. They laughed, joked, told stories and sang songs.
“Well, well!” exclaimed Jerry, looking at his watch. “Here it is noon, and we’re not home for dinner.”
“No, and not likely to be,” added Ned rather gloomily. “I’ll admit I’m as bad as Bob this time. I want something to eat.”
“Do you?” asked the stout youth.
“Sure, Chunky.”
“Then, maybe you’ll quit making fun of me,” was Bob’s answer, as, from one of the lockers he drew out a bulky package.
“What is it?” asked Jerry.
“Sandwiches and cake. I bought ’em in the little booth where we had chocolate with Mr. Blowitz the other day. I thought we might be hungry, so I got ’em while you were tinkering with the engine. Now, maybe you wish I hadn’t.”
“Not a bit of it, Chunky,” declared Jerry heartily. “You’re all right!”
“It was very thoughtful to provide for us,” said Rose.
There was fresh water in a cooler, and the young people made a merry meal. They ate everything to the last crumbs, and, as Bob said, they could probably have gotten away with more, for the salt air gave them good appetites.
“The fog’s lifting!” exclaimed Ned suddenly. “Now we can start for home. I can just make out the coast.”
True enough, right ahead of them was a low, dark line.
“Well, if that isn’t queer,” remarked Bob. “I would have said the shore was off there,” and he pointed in the opposite direction.
“I guess we must have turned around when we drifted,” said Jerry. “We’re quite a way from the buoy now.”
Once it began to lift, the fog dispersed rapidly, and Jerry soon had the engine going, and the boat headed for the shore. He speeded the motor up to as high a pitch as was safe, in unfamiliar waters, and soon the town of San Felicity came into view.
“Get near the shore,” advised Ned, “then, if the fog shuts down on us again, we’ll know where we are.”
Jerry decided this was good advice, and steered the Ripper straight in, intending to run up along the coast to San Felicity. It was well that he did so, for the lifting of the fog was only temporary. When they were about a quarter of a mile from the shore the white mist closed in again, worse than before. But Jerry had his sense of direction now, and decided it would be safe to continue on at half speed, as there did not appear to be any other craft in sight, when he took a rapid survey of the bay just as the fog settled down.
Peering through the almost impenetrable white mass of vapor ahead of him, Jerry sent the Ripper slowly on her way.
“You’ll have to be careful,” cautioned Rose. “The tide is running out, and there’s not much water along here at the ebb. I hope we don’t go aground.”
“So do I,” answered Jerry.
Just then there was a shock, and the boat quivered, hesitated for an instant, and then resumed her course.
“We struck bottom that time,” said Ned. “Luckily it seemed to be mud.”
“There are rocks along here,” declared Nellie. “Go slow, Jerry.”
The steersman, who could manage the boat from the engine cockpit, as well as from the bow, further slowed down the motor, until the Ripper was barely moving through the water.
Suddenly there was a grinding sound, the boat heeled over to one side, and came to a stop.
“The rocks!” cried Rose. “We’re on the rocks!”
“Reverse!” yelled Ned, and Jerry did so, as quick as a flash, but it was too late.
“We’re aground,” he announced grimly.
“Will we sink?” asked Olivia in alarm.
“I guess there’s no danger of that,” announced Jerry, as he went forward, “but I hope we haven’t stove a hole in her,” he added, peering anxiously over the side.
“How about it?” asked Ned.
“Well, it might be worse,” answered Jerry. “We have run right on the cleft of a rock, and we’re held there. Can’t get off until high tide, I suppose. Say, we seem to be up against it on our first trip.”
“Oh, as long as we’re not sinking we’re all right,” said Olivia. “We can wade ashore. It’s not far.”
“Yes, it’s quite a way, and I don’t want to spoil my shoes,” objected Nellie. “We should have brought our bathing suits. Oh, dear! Isn’t it unfortunate? I’m afraid father will be worried about us.”
“One of us will wade or swim ashore, and tell him,” said Ned. “We can easily do it.”
“Boat ahoy!” suddenly called a voice out of the mist. “Who are you?”
“The Ripper,” answered Jerry. “Who are you?”
A moment later a rowboat appeared from behind the white curtain of fog, and the boys and girls saw that Mr. Carson Blowitz was in the craft.
“Well! Well!” he exclaimed. “You’re in trouble, aren’t you?—and I’m just in time to effect a rescue,” and he smiled at the boat load of boys and girls.