"I allows as thar's p'ints in Jim's remyarks," observed the cowpuncher, floating with his back to wind and sea. "But say we-alls gets alongside: if this here sea butts us up agin her, we're shore liable to emerge tharfrom a heap busted an' unstrung."
"Look out!" broke in Jack hurriedly, as he faced to windward, and the next moment the broken top of a sea rolled them over and over.
Jack and Broncho both came out of the clutches of the roller without any damage, but poor Jim's life-buoy brought him to the surface upside down, and the rolling-stone only just rescued him in time.
"Lord, I thought I was a gorner!" gasped the boy, as all three in the midst of a smother of bubbling froth floated down into the calm hollow behind the breaker.
"That wave does mighty near call the turn on you that time, Jim. This here is drawin' the cinch some tight, an' I ain't hankerin' after any more hurdygurdies o' that party's sturdy physique," remarked Broncho, conversing in his usual quaint, off-hand way, his gentle southern drawl in no way affected by the terrible circumstances in which he was placed, for the chances of being picked up by the Nantucket barque were very slim.
As they rose to the top of the next wave, all three anxiously turned their eyes on the whaler.
"Shall we reach her?" asked Jim, with trembling voice.
"Drift right on to us in an hour or two. Keep your pecker up and feet down," declared Jack cheerily.
"I will if I can, you bet your life," replied the plucky boy, regaining his courage at Jack's reassuring words. "Why, look! The old Higgins is nearly out of sight. I expect there's hell to play on her now," he went on.