The clouds grew darker and the wind increased till whitecaps appeared and dotted the sea, and the little boat sped on before it with increasing speed.
“Time to get in the mainsail,” said Evans; “take the wheel; steer southwest by west, and hold your course as close as you know how.”
Then he let go the halyards, and running forward with a couple of stops in his hand, had the sail down and roughly furled in a few seconds.
“Now,” he said, taking the wheel again, “she’ll stand a whole lot of wind this way. Hold the chart for me. This channel isn’t buoyed, and the chart helps.”
Even with only the mizzen and jib the Petrel made good speed; and now with the stiff wind and east-running tide, the whitecaps were increasing to good-sized breakers. Then the dark clouds to windward gathered themselves into a huge black knot, black as ink and roughly funnel-shaped. Like a giant projectile this black mass approached, coming at an astounding speed.
“This is going to be a good one,” said Evans. “It’ll be thick in a minute, I wouldn’t mind seeing a landmark ahead. Ah! there’s Monomoy Light.”
Straining his eyes he could barely make out the lighthouse and get an approximate bearing on it. But Mortimer’s eyes were riveted on the colossal black storm-cloud whirling through space toward him in a way that fairly took his breath away.
“The jib’s all we’ll want when this hits,” said Evans, and in another second or two he had the mizzen down and a stop around it.
AND THEN THE THING STRUCK