“Running so close to that other boat gave him a good scare,” he informed his sister triumphantly. “He says he’s willing to tie up for the night now.”
“Good enough!” Mary replied. “I’m glad he’s coming to his senses. There’s no use risking our lives trying to get away when the police aren’t on our trail. We can go on again in the morning when the river isn’t on the rampage.”
Buttoning his slicker more tightly about him, Bud Mason again stepped out into the storm. As he opened the cabin door a cold blast of wind rattled the window, and Nancy caught a glimpse of angry waters washing in great sheets over the decks. She was relieved that Tom Tozzle had agreed to halt, for it was a mystery to her how the little boat had managed to keep afloat. Then, too, if they tied up for the night, there was a possibility that she might find a means of escape.
Several minutes elapsed, and from the sound of the motor, Nancy knew that they must be approaching shore. Mary Mason rose from the cot and staggered over to the window.
“We’re coming up to the dock,” she observed, more to herself than for Nancy’s benefit. Suddenly she gave a wild scream of terror. “There’s a yacht bearing right down on us! Oh, we’re going to hit!”
Above the roar and whistle of the wind, Nancy heard Bud cry out in a hoarse voice:
“About, Tom! About!”
Nancy struggled frantically with her bonds, but was helpless. Before she had time to cry out, there came a terrific crash and the sound of splintering wood! Then Nancy Drew felt herself hurled headlong across the cabin.