‘Thank goodness! It’s over now,’ she said, and it was so quiet that Wopole overheard her easily.
‘Don’t hulloa till you’re out of the wood,’ he said. ‘Look there!’
The Princess did look, and she saw that the horizon was hidden by masses of white foam that rose and fell as if the sea were one great cauldron full of boiling water.
‘That’s the storm coming down again,’ Wopole went on. ‘Hurry to the helm and put it hard down when I hoist the sail, for the cable will snap like thread before it. Quick—quick!’
The Princess ran like lightning along the deck, for the sea was quite quiet, and the vessel hardly pitched at all, and she reached the helm in a very few minutes.
When she got there she stood still and listened. Everything was quiet and still; the vessel only rolled slightly, and the cordage creaked uneasily, as if it feared the coming strain that it would have to stand. From where the sea boiled a noise came—so low and grumbling that it might have been the faint growl of an angry cat before it makes a spring.
Just then Wopole looked towards the helm:
‘Mind and put it hard down!’ he shouted.
‘I wonder why he wants me to put it down,’ she thought.