“Don’t you hang any doubts on that!” the captain declared, with emphasis. “We’ll just land all troops and clean up that place in fine style!”
They boarded the Lassie again, where Jim told Terry of his adventures of the last few hours. Terry was very much pleased with Jim’s new find, Captain Blow. On his part, the old sailor was much impressed with the boys.
“You’re real shipshape lads,” he declared, warmly. “None of these softy loafers. I must say you keep this little boat in first class order. I’ve sailed in some worse rattletraps than this, in my time. Galloping smelts! there goes my fool tongue again. I mean I’ve sailed in some ships in my time that was rattletraps, not that your boat is one. Good thing my boats don’t navigate like my tongue.”
Hope that Don had managed to get away from the island house safely in some measure eased the minds of the two boys, and they ate some food. The captain asked to look at their barometer and frowned at it, but said nothing. In another hour, as they sat on the deck, a moaning breeze began to blow through the halyards of the sloop, and it began to rock with increasing force.
“In for bad weather,” growled the captain.
His words were scarcely out of his mouth before a violent gale swept over them, and the fury of the storm was on. Shouting to them to get below the captain forced his way to the bow to examine the anchor cable. Presently he dropped through the hatchway, soaking wet from head to foot from the flying spray.
“If it gets any worse we’ll have to weigh anchor and scoot,” he reported. “That baby hawser is getting quite a strain on it.”
For the next half hour the sloop rocked without stopping, and the three sat and talked in low tones. Each time a wave hit the little ship it jerked roughly at the anchor cable. Finally, shaking his shaggy head, the captain got up.
“Turn your power on,” he ordered Jim. “We’ve got to get that mud-hook up. If we don’t the cable’ll bust in two and then we’ll be bouncing all over the ocean.”
While Jim turned on the power the captain scrambled outside to pull up the anchor. Even under full power the Lassie made little headway, only enough to slack up the strain on the taut cable. Bending double in the raging storm the old sea captain slowly and painfully cranked up the hand windlass. Reluctantly, the anchor came up.