Ringold, for one needed to yell to be heard above that storm. "It's the only way we can be safe," the manager added. "Start the motor!"
"And where will we steer?" Mr. Piper wanted to know.
"Anywhere we can, to get in some sheltered place," suggested Blake. "But it's doubtful if we can stem this wind and current."
"We'll have to quarter it," spoke Mr. Ringold, when he had taken an observation, by the aid of a lightning flash.
Meanwhile Joe and Mr. Piper had started the motor, and, as the welcome throb and hum were heard, Blake and the manager went to the wheel.
"Better light up," the moving picture man said. "No telling what we may run into, or what might run into us. There are probably boats afloat, bad as the storm is."
Save for a single light in the cabin, and a riding light outside, the Clytie was in darkness when the cable parted. But now the incandescents were switched on. They were operated by a large storage battery, charged by a dynamo, run by the motor flywheel.
With a powerful searchlight at her bow, her stern light, and the red and green side lamps, as well as the cabin lights, aglow, the craft now presented a more cheerful aspect, and she was cer-
