ainst
hope that there was some such island. It wasn't the gold he was thinking
of, but a haven of refuge. This storm was going to be a bad one. He
fancied it was going to be one of the worst experienced on the Atlantic
for years. If only there were somewhere a sheltered nook into which this
cockleshell of a craft they were riding on might be driven, it would
bring him great relief. He thought a little of Joe, of the skipper and
the engineer, but he thought a great deal about the girl.

"No place for a girl," he mumbled. "Perhaps," he tried to tell himself,
"there is an island, a very small island overlooked for centuries by
navigators; perhaps those boys have found it. Perhaps they were merely
sending out an S. O. S. to get someone to bring them gas to carry them
home. But rat!" he exploded, "I don't believe it. Don't--"

He cut himself short to press the receivers tight against his ears. He
was getting something. Quickly he manipulated the coil of his radio
compass. Yes, it was an S. O. S.! And, yes, it was coming directly out
of the storm. But what was this they were saying? "Two boys--" He got
that much, but what was that? Strain his ears as he might, he could not
catch another word.

But now--now he believed he was about to get it. Moving the coil
backward and forward he strained every muscle in his face in a mad
effort to understand. Yes, yes, that was it! Then, just as he was
getting it a terrible thing happened. There came a blinding flash of
light, accompanied by a rending, tearing, deafening crash. He felt
himself seized by some invisible power which wrenched every muscle,
twisted every joint in his body, then flung him limp and motionless to
the floor.

When he came to himself, Joe and the girl were bending over him. Joe
was tearing at the buttons of his shirt. The girl was rocking backward
and forward. All but overcome with excitement, she was still attempting
to chafe his right hand. When she saw him open his eyes she uttered a
little cry, then toppled over in a dead faint.

"Wha--what happened?" Curlie's lips framed the words.

"Lightning," shouted Joe. "Protectors must have got damp.
Short-circuited. Raised hob. Burned out about everything, I guess."

"Can't be as bad as that. Tend to the girl," Curlie nodded toward the
corner.

Joe ducked out of the cabin, to appear a moment later with a cold, damp
cloth. This he spread over the girl's forehead. A moment later she sat
up and looked about her.