"Better not!" again cautioned Captain Trent. But our heroes were no different from other boys, and did not heed the warning. Had they done so perhaps this story would not have been written, for the events following their sail that day were unusual, and had a far-reaching effect.

"Come on!" called Andy sharply to his brother, as he saw the captain making ready to start a discussion about the weather. Mr. Trent might also ask more questions about the damaged boat, and neither Andy nor his brother wanted to answer--just yet.

Five minutes later saw the two brothers sailing away from the pier.

The breeze was getting stronger every moment, until the rail of their trim boat was under water part of the time.

"Say, it _is_ blowing!" declared Frank.

"Oh, what of it? The _Gull_ can stand more than this. Besides we're safe in the harbor, and we may soon sight the whale. Keep a good lookout!"

For some time they sailed on, each one scanning the expanse of the bay, which was now dotted here and there with whitecaps. The boat was heeling over almost too much for comfort.

"Hadn't we better turn back?" asked Frank, after a period of silence, broken only by the swish of the water.

"Of course not," declared the more daring Andy. "It was about here that my boat was stove in. The whale may be around these diggings looking for us."

"Likely--not!" exclaimed Frank decidedly.

There came a fiercer gust of wind, and it fairly howled through the rigging. The waters whitened with spray and foam.

"It's a squall!" yelled Frank. "Better turn back."

"We can't now," shouted Andy at the top of his voice, to make himself heard above the howling of the wind. "We'd better keep on to Seabright. We can lay over there until this blows by. See anything of the whale?"

"No. It's useless to look for him. I'm going to take a reef in the sail."

"That's right. I guess you'd better shorten some of our canvas. I'll hold her as steady as I can while you're doing it. Or shall I lash the helm and help you?"

"No, you stay there. I can manage it."

The storm increased in sudden fury, and it was no easy task to shorten sail with the pressure of the wind on it. But Frank Racer had considerable skill in handling boats, and with his brother at the helm, to ease off when he gave the word, he managed to cast off the throat and peak lines, lower the gaff and sail, and then take a double reef in the canvas.

Even under the smaller spread the _Gull_ shot along over the foam-crested waves like some speeding motor boat. Andy was so taken up with watching his brother, and in aiding him as much as he could by shifting the helm as was needful, that he did not look ahead for several minutes. He was recalled to this necessary duty by a sudden, frightened cry from Frank.

"The rocks! Look out for the rocks!" shouted the older lad. "We'll be on 'em in a second! Port your helm! Port!"

Andy desperately threw over the tiller, and with fear-blanched face he looked to where his brother pointed. Amid a smother of white foam, almost dead ahead and scarcely two cable lengths away there showed the black and jagged points of rocks, known locally as the "Shark's Teeth."

The _Gull_ was headed straight for them.

Anxiously, and with strained eyes, the brothers looked to see if their boat would answer her rudder. For a moment or two she hung in the balance, the howling wind driving her nearer the rocks, to strike upon which meant sure destruction in the now boiling sea.

Then, with a feeling of relief, Andy saw that they were sheering off, but very slowly. Could they make it? They were near to death, for no one--not even the strongest swimmer--could live long unaided in that boiling sea that would pound him upon the sharp rocks.

Suddenly Frank uttered a cry, and pointed to a spot at the left of the rocks, in a s.p.a.ce of water comparatively calm.

"There! Look! Look!" he shouted.

"What is it? The whale?" demanded Andy.

"No, a boat--a motor boat! It's disabled--drifting! It must have been on the rocks. It's a large one, too. Look out you don't hit it."

"It's on fire!" cried Andy. "See the smoke--the flame! It's burning up!"

The _Gull_ was now far enough from the Shark's Teeth to warrant her safety, and the boys could look at the motor craft, that was bobbing helplessly about in the spume and spray, being tossed hither and thither by the heaving waves.

"See anybody on her?" yelled Andy.

"No--not a soul," answered Frank, who had made his way forward, and was standing up, clinging to the mast.

Suddenly, amid the howling of the storm, there came a sharp explosion.

There was a puff of flame, and a cloud of smoke hovered over the hapless motor boat, which, strange to say, still remained intact and afloat.

"She's blown up! Exploded!" yelled Andy.

"Yes, and there's a boy in the water! Look!" fairly screamed Frank.

"He was on the boat! The explosion must have blown him out! He's floating! We must save him, Andy!"

"Sure! Jupiter's lobsters! but things are happening to us to-day!

Look out! I'm going to put about!"

Frank scrambled back to join his brother. The big boom with its shortened sail swung over, and, heeling under the force of the shrieking wind, the _Gull_ darted toward the dangerous rocks once more.

Toward the wrecked motorboat, toward the figure of the boy floating in the smother of foaming and storm-torn waves she swept.

Could they reach the helpless lad in time? It was the question uppermost in the hearts of Frank and Andy Racer.

CHAPTER III

THE BOY'S RESCUE

"Can we make it, Frank?" questioned Andy desperately.

"We've got to," came the quick answer. "Ease her off a little until I get the lay of things."

"Is he swimming?" demanded the younger lad.

"Yes, but only with one hand. He must be injured. He can just manage to keep afloat. Put in a little closer. We've pa.s.sed the worst of the Teeth. It's deep water here, isn't it?"

"Yes, as near as I can tell. I haven't been here very often. It's too dangerous, even in calm weather, to say nothing of a storm."

The wind was now a gale, but the boys had their sailboat well in hand and were managing her skillfully. They came nearer to the feebly swimming lad.

"There he goes--he's sunk--he's under!" yelled Andy, peering beneath the boom.

"Too bad!" muttered Frank. "We're too late!"