"Perhaps one hour; perhaps four."
"Let us have a look at the chart," Wilkinson said. "When we last looked there was a group of rocks ten miles ahead, and at the rate we are going the Tigress will be smashed into matchwood if she keeps on this course for long."
Edgar nodded.
"We must get trysails on the main and foremast," Wilkinson went on, "and manage to lay her course a couple of points to the west. I wish we had those upper spars down on deck, but it is of no use talking of that now."
Wilkinson went down to the sail-room with the boatswain and four seamen to bring up the two heaviest and strongest of the triangular sails.
"We must sheet them home before we hoist them," he said, as they returned on deck. "We should never be able to haul the sheets in when the sails once fill."
Twenty men went aft with them and commenced the task. The fore-trysail was bent to some of the mast-hoops, and the sheet fastened to a cavel on the port side.
"Port your helm a little, my man," Wilkinson said. "That will do, just enough to keep the wind on the starboard quarter. Keep her at that, keep her at that." Edgar had the sail ready to hoist. "Slacken the tack a little. Now, half a dozen of you tail on here, and get ready to haul it down as soon as the sail is up to its full height and the halliards secured. Now, lads, tail on to the halliards. Away with her."
The sailors ran forward with the rope, but as the sail rose the strain was so great that once or twice they were brought to a standstill. At last the boatswain shouted:
"That is enough. Come back a little, but keep a firm grip of it. That is right!" he shouted, as he twisted the slack of the rope over the cleet. "Now, lads, down with the tack; down with it! Belay!"