of oilskins, the three chums made their way out to the open deck of the Skip, behind the cabin bulkhead.
Here they felt the full force of the wind, and the rain stung into their faces. Also they felt the salty spray of the ocean as it blew over the bow. All about them they could see the white-topped billows, and they looked larger than they had from the cabin. Still the Skip seemed to ride them well.
A glance showed the boys that the lights were all right. They were full of oil—Silas had told them he always kept them ready for instant use.
"Now for a yell!" called Sammy, and the boys called together.
Several times they did this, at the same time blowing the compressed air whistle. But there came no answer, nor could they see the lights of any passing ship. They appeared to be alone on the ocean in the storm and darkness.
"It's no use," said Bob, sadly.
"No, let's go inside," suggested Frank.
"Besides, we want to save some of the air in the tank to blow the whistle to-morrow," went on Sammy. "We can compress the air only when the motor is running, and we can't start that."
"Maybe we can," suggested Bob. "I'm going to have a try at that in the morning, if we aren't picked up before."
"Maybe it will start by just turning the switch. Silas said it did, sometimes," spoke Frank.
"Well, don't try it now," exclaimed Bob, quickly. "We don't want to get it going when we don't know which way to steer. Let's wait."
And wait they did.
Into the cabin they went again, out of the wind and rain. The shelter seemed a cozy place in contrast to the blackness outside.
