The little boat, one moment riding the crest of the waves, the next wallowing in the trough of the sea, moved away bravely though every moment it seemed in imminent danger of capsizing. It took skillful handling by Captain Glenn—the only man not at the oars—to keep the craft right side up.
It was so dark there on the sea that it was impossible for the occupants of the boat to tell whether or not others had escaped the ship safely.
"This storm can't last much longer, sir!" shouted Jack.
"If it does, we are wasting energy rowing," said Frank quietly.
"We'll row along as long as we can," said Captain Glenn. "We've been blown so far off our course that there is no telling where we are. It wouldn't surprise me if we had been blown off the coast of South America."
"Impossible, sir," ejaculated Jack.
"Maybe so," replied Captain Glenn. "I'm just guessing. Still, it wouldn't surprise me a bit."
Suddenly the raging wind ceased. The waves still rose to mighty heights, but the wind was stilled almost to a zephyr and the little boat rode the swells gently.
"It's over, sir!" shouted Frank.
"So it is," said Captain Glenn, "but it is still dark. Strike a match someone and learn the hour."