They were
fully a mile from either rock-bound shore. Wyland Island was a good two
miles before them, and home seven miles to the rear.
A biggish sea was rolling and the sky was clouding threateningly. The
liquor had done its worst for the boys: it had unnerved them, while at
the same time it had given them a mad courage.
"Keep straight ahead," shouted Tom, "until we get near shore, and then
pull in that infernal sail!"
What happened just then Jerry-Jo could never tell, and he alone remained
at the day's end for the telling!
They were in the water, all three of them! For a moment Jerry-Jo,
thoroughly sobered and keener witted than he had ever been before in his
life, believed he was the only one of the party ever again to appear in
that angry sea. Then he saw the over-turned boat, heard the last sobbing
pants of the engine as it filled with water; then Tom's black head and
agonized face appeared; then Sandy's red head. They all made for the boat
and the wide sail lying flat in the water!
They reached the launch, chilled and desperate, climbed upon it, and
gazed helplessly at each other.
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