A mountainous wave, greater than the rest, descended upon the motorboat and broke over it, drenching all on board to the skin. The wind whistled overhead and the air grew icy cold. Frank shivered, as he held fast.
"Br-r-r," he said. "Right now it would feel awfully nice to be ashore. I wonder what of Lord Hastings and The Hawk?"
At the same moment, Lord Hastings was wondering what of them.
For hours and hours, it seemed to the two lads, the little craft battled the storm, at each moment seeming in imminent danger of capsizing; but always the master hand of Edwards at the wheel righted the little craft and it dashed away in the gale.
"Great Scott!" cried Frank, raising his voice to a shout to make himself heard above the terrible roaring of the wind, "we can't stand this much longer."
"You are right," declared Jack. "We are liable to be swamped at any moment."
As each wave descended upon them, breaking over the little boat, Frank was confident that the end had come. It did not seem possible that the craft could withstand another. But each time the little boat seemed to brace itself for the shock and a moment later would ride high to safety.
Edwards, at the wheel, had lashed himself fast, that he might not be swept overboard; and once, soon after the storm had descended, he was startled.
Something soft touched his feet; and taking his eyes from ahead long enough to look down, he saw that the object was the body of Williams, which the water had washed over the deck to him.
His hands fast, as they were, he could not stoop down to touch the body as he gazed at it mournfully; then another wave descended, and when it had gone, Williams' body was no longer in sight.