With three persons and the two dead goats
the craft was pretty heavily loaded, and more than once the rising
wind swept some water over the bow.
"I'd give a little to be ashore again," said Tom presently. "It seems
to me that the rain is shutting out everything."
"We'll have to land again, lads," put in the captain, with a grave
shake of his head. "This wind is growing worse. We don't want to be
swamped."
They turned to what they thought must be the direction of the nearest
shore, but though they pulled with might and main for nearly quarter
of an hour no land appeared.
"We're mixed," cried Sam. "The storm has twisted us up."
By this time the wind was blowing a regular gale on the bay. It took
off Tom's cap, and in a twinkle the headgear was out of sight.
"My cap's gone!" groaned the youth.
"The water is coming in over the bow!" came from Sam. "We will be
swamped!"
"We must throw the goats overboard," said the captain, and overboard
went the game, much to the boys' sorrow.
This lightened the craft a little, but still the waves swept over
the gunwale, and now both Sam and Tom set to bailing, while the
captain took both oars. Then came another blast of wind, worse than
before.
"I see land!" cried Sam.
"We are going over!" yelled Tom, and the wind fairly whipped the
words from his lips. Then came a mighty wave, and on the instant the
rowboat was upset, and all three found themselves in the waters of
the bay.
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