SOMETHING ABOUT WAR AND FIGHTING SHIPS
"It's going to strike the ship!"
"It will cut us to pieces!"
"Throw the schooner over on the other tack!"
These and several other cries rang out on the deck of the Columbia. All felt their hearts come up into their throats as the roaring, swirling mass of water came closer and closer, until the spray drenched them completely. The ocean was churned into a white foam and the wind seemed to suck and blow in all directions at once.
But, just as it looked as if the schooner would be buried beneath a veritable mountain of water, the waterspout took another curve and slid away, along the side of the ship and off the stern. The man at the wheel came close to being carried overboard by the deluge he received and the Columbia bobbed up and down like a cork. But in another moment the waterspout was an eighth of a mile distant.
"What a—a narrow escape," faltered Larry, when he felt able to speak. "I thought we were bound for the bottom sure!"
"Thet's the closest I ever was to any waterspout," came from Luke, as he wiped his wet brow. "Reckon we can thank Providence we ain't in Davy Jones' locker this minit!"
Captain Ponsberry did not say much, but kept his eyes fixed on the waterspout, which was making fantastic curves across the bosom of the Pacific. At times it was close by and then it would go half a mile or more away. It was a fascinating scene, full of dread, and gave more than one onlooker a chill down his backbone.
"I wish it would go away completely," went on Larry.