CHAPTER XX A WEIRD RESTING PLACE
Rain came sweeping down upon the sea. This flattened out the waves butadded greatly to their misery. The wind raced on. Riding with it theymoved forward into the great dark unknown.
Just when Florence was ready to give up hope her keen ears caught againthe sound of waves rushing over rocks.
"One more shore!" she exclaimed. "Is there another island?"
"No other island," Katie's voice was solemn, "only rocks."
"Yes," Florence thought as a fresh chill ran up her spine, "there arerocks."
She remembered it now. She had seen them rising above the water. One wascalled Gull Rock. Sportsmen went there to fish. Were they approachingGull Rock? And if they were? She found little comfort in such thoughts.The waves were still running high.
Forcing her mind away from the immediate terror, she thought of Dave andJeanne, of Mike and Tony and the mysterious boy in the crimson sweaterhiding away in the forests. Did he truly set the fires? If he did whatwas his motive? No one had seen him even close enough to know how helooked. Would Mike and Tony catch him? Would--
Of a sudden a dull, grating tremor passed through the staunch littleboat.
"Wha-what happened," she gasped. They had reached the crest of a wave.Now their boat was gliding backward. The darkness was intense. Peer asshe might, she could see nothing save the dim outline of Katie's body.
"It's the rock," Katie's voice was deathly calm. "That wave was not high.The next will be higher. We will be carried onto the rocks. We must jump.It is our chance."
She did not say, "Our only chance." Florence knew it all the same. Atthat moment she was thankful for slacks and sneaks. They would improveher chance.
"Katie!" she cried, "The rock! Is it high?"
"Who knows? We must jump. Now--" Katie caught a long breath. "Now we aregoing up. Now--" There came a shuddering grind much more terrible thanthe first. "Now jump! And run--run away from the sea."
Gripping the gunwale, Florence vaulted over the side, struck a slipperyrock, all but fell, then, regaining her footing dashed with the energy ofdespair up the slanting rock.
Had not the stout Katie gripped her arm just in time, she must havedashed quite across the rock and have fallen down the steep side into theboiling water below.
As for Katie, there was no chance of over-valuing her wisdom at such atime.
"Come!" she cried, once her companion had regained a little of hercomposure, "That great wave left our boat on the rock. There will bethree small ones, then perhaps a greater one. We must save our boat if wecan. You on one side, I on the other, we must slide it higher."
Left to herself, Florence would not have taken one step toward thoseracing waters, but inspired by her companion's splendid courage, sheretraced her steps, seized the boat and, with energy born of despair, didher full share of lifting the boat to a higher position.
"Now!" Katie panted. "Now! Now! And now!"
As she heaved away Florence counted the waves. "One, two, three." Wouldthe fourth be larger?
"Yes! Yes!" she cried, as its dark, shadowy bulk appeared to rise aboveher. "It--it--is a terrible one."
"Run!" Katie cried once again.
Florence needed no urging. This time, however, she measured her distancewith great care.
With anxious eyes they stared into the darkness. Had they done enough?Had their precious boat been saved, or would it go floating away, neverto be seen again? Florence had visions of herself perched on a barrenrock through a night of cold and darkness.
"Hurray! We win!" Katie exclaimed. "The boat is still there!"
It was true. The wave had reached out, but not far enough. They were inpossession of a shelter from the storm and a means of leaving when thestorm had passed. Florence breathed a deep sigh of relief.
"Come," said Katie, "we must lift it higher."
"Oh!" Florence exclaimed, as, starting forward, she stumbled over somesolid object and fell flat.
"Are--are you hurt?" Katie bent over her.
"No. I--I fell over something, Katie! It's a driftwood log! We can use itfor a roller. That makes it easy."
So it did, in more ways than one. Having rolled the boat forward on thelog, they fumbled in the prow of the boat for a fire-fighter's hatchetthey knew was there. They hacked at the log until there were dry chipsaplenty.
Then Katie said, "We'll tip over the boat. We'll use part of the log toprop it up. This makes a house." There was a note of pure joy in hervoice. "I have matches in the pocket of my boot. They are always there.We shall have such a fine fire."
Such a fine fire as it was, too. To Florence, whose teeth would not ceasechattering, it seemed the jolliest fire in the world.
The north shore of Isle Royale is strewn with smooth, eight-foot pulpwoodlogs that have escaped from booms in Canada and, drifting across, havelodged on those shores. From the crevices of their rock Katie andFlorence managed to gather nine of these dry logs. Soon four were blazingbrightly.
Hidden from the wind by their over-turned boat, warmed by the fire, thegirls managed to struggle from their soaked outer garments and prop themon sticks before the fire.
For a full hour they lay there before the blazing logs. Soaking in thecheering heat and dreaming, half asleep, they all but forgot that thisspot was far from their snug floating home, the _Wanderer_, and IsleRoyale with all its problems.
When Florence at last sat up to stretch herself and stir up the fire, sheexclaimed, "Katie, I'm hungry. Seems to me I remember something about ameal we were to eat on the rocks after the fishing was done."
"Not these rocks." Katie laughed a deep, happy laugh. "But these willdo."
They had planned a supper of planked fish on the rocks off Edward'sIsland. Snugly stowed away in the prow of the boat was a closed tinbucket containing sandwiches, a small pie and salt for the fish.
With some difficulty, Katie managed to prepare a plank from a flatsection of log.
"Now," she said, "the fish."
"The big one?" Florence asked.
"No. Never!" Katie was horrified. "That prize! No. We shall go hometomorrow and we shall say, 'See, we have been fishing and we caught thisone. Such a whopper!'" Once again she laughed her deep, mellow laugh.
"No," she added, "one of the little ones will do very well. A two-poundfish. Who could ask for more?"
The fish was cleaned, boned and laid out flat on the plank. Then, with awire, Katie bound it fast. For a full half hour after that the fish hungstewing and sizzling over the fire. Turning browner and browner, it wasat last like the rich gold of an autumn leaf.
"Now," said Katie with a sigh, "it is done."
In her short life Florence had eaten many grand meals and in many acurious place. But none was as grand as this and no place more strange.
"Now," she sighed when it was over, "we must sleep, for tomorrow will beanother day."
Sleep they did. Rolled up in their dried out garments, crowded closetogether before the great, glowing bed of coals, they slept the sleep offorgetfulness.
Twice during the night Florence was conscious of Katie's movements as shereplenished the fire, and that was all.