The motor was humming and throbbing, and, at Jerry's
suggestion, Ned gave the wheels and cogs an additional dose of oil.
The storm rapidly increased in fury, and the boat was pitching and
tossing in a manner that made it difficult to get from one part to
another. But the Ripper was a substantial craft and though her nose,
many times, was buried deep under some big sea, she managed to work
her way out, staggering under the shock, but going on, like the
gallant boat she was.
The engine, from which one or another of the boys never took his eyes,
worked to perfection. If it had failed them, and they had gotten into
the trough of the sea, there probably would have been a different
story to tell of the motor boys on the Pacific.
"This is getting fierce!" exclaimed Bob; after a particularly big wave
had deluged the boat.
"Getting fierce?" repeated Jerry. "It's been fierce for some time. I
hope it doesn't get any worse."
But, if it did not increase in violence, the storm showed no signs of
ceasing. The wind fairly howled around the frail boat, as if angry
that it could not overwhelm it, and beat it down under the waves,
which were altogether too big for the safe or comfortable riding of
the Ripper.
There was nothing to do save watch the engine, keep the wheel steady,
and the boat pointed head on to the waves. The three boys took turns
at this, for no one would now venture back to his bunk. Mr. De Vere
could do little, for his broken arm hampered him, and, in order that
he might suffer no further injury, he braced himself in a corner,
where he would be comparatively safe from the pitching and tossing.
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