finger on his lips.

"Don't scare the kid," he whispered, leaning forward, "but we're in for
a storm."

He pointed seaward.

Rolling toward them was a spreading wall of heavy clouds traveling at
seemingly great speed, while below the wrack the water darkened
ominously and became flecked with "white horses."

CHAPTER XVI

LOST IN THE STORM

"The trouble's in the reversible propeller. I always told Rob he was
foolish not to have a regular reverse gear on the shaft itself and a
solid wheel," said Merritt.

"Well, never mind that now," urged Tubby anxiously. "I'll shift all
the cushions and stuff up in the bow, and Hiram and I will get as far
forward as we can. That will raise the stern and you can hang over and
reach the wheel."

When the stout lad had done as he suggested there was quite a
perceptible tilt forward to the Flying Fish, and Merritt, hanging over
the stern, could feel about the propeller better.

"Just as I thought," he shouted presently. "That shark when he came
astern fouled that heavy line on the propeller."

He got out his knife, and in a few minutes succeeded in cutting the
entangling line free.

It was not any too soon. From far off there came a low sound,
something like the moaning of a large animal in pain. It grew louder
and closer, and with it came an advancing wall of water crested with
white foam. The sky, too, grew black, and air filled with a sort of
sulphurous smell.

"It's a thunder squall," shouted Tubby, as Merritt shoved over the
lever and started the engine.

As he spoke there came a low growl of thunder and the sky was illumined
with a livid glare.

"Here she comes!" yelled Merritt; "better get out those slickers or
we'll be soaked."

Tubby opened a locker and produced the yellow waterproof coats. The
boys had hardly thrust their arms into them before the big sea struck
them. Thanks to Tubby's steering, however, the Flying Fish met it
without shipping more than a few cupfuls of water.

The next minute the full fury of the storm enveloped the Boy Scouts and
the Flying Fish was laboring in a heaving wilderness of lashed and
tumbling water.

"Keep her head up!" roared Merritt, above the screaming of the wind and
the now almost continuous roar and rattle of the thunder. It grew
almost dark, so overcast was the sky, and under the somber, driving
cloud wrack the white wave crests gleamed like savage teeth.

Hiram crouched on the bottom of the boat, to