“Row steadily, Ruthven,” he shouted; “don't spurt. We have a long row before us and must not knock ourselves up at the beginning.”
For half an hour not a word was spoken beyond an occasional cheery exhortation from Frank. The shore could be dimly seen at times through the driving mist, and Frank's heart sank as he recognized the fact that it was further off than it had been when they first began to row. The wind was blowing a gale now, and, although but two miles from shore, the sea was already rough for an open boat.
“Here, Ruthven, you take a spell now,” he said.
Although the rowers had from time to time glanced over their shoulders, they could not, through the mist, form any idea of their position. When Ruthven took the helm he exclaimed, “Good gracious, Frank! the shore is hardly visible. We are being blown out to sea.”
“I am afraid we are,” Frank said; “but there is nothing to do but to keep on rowing. The wind may lull or it may shift and give us a chance of making for Ramsgate. The boat is a good sea boat, and may keep afloat even if we are driven out to sea. Or if we are missed from shore they may send the lifeboat out after us. That is our best chance.”
In another quarter of an hour Ruthven was ready to take another spell at the oar. “I fear,” Frank shouted to him as he climbed over the seat, “there is no chance whatever of making shore. All we've got to do is to row steadily and keep her head dead to wind. Two of us will do for that. You and I will row now, and let Handcock and Jones steer and rest by turns. Then when we are done up they can take our places.”
In another hour it was quite dark, save for the gray light from the foaming water around. The wind was blowing stronger than ever, and it required the greatest care on the part of the steersman to keep her dead in the eye of the wind. Handcock was steering now, and Jones lying at the bottom of the boat, where he was sheltered, at least from the wind. All the lads were plucky fellows and kept up a semblance of good spirits, but all in their hearts knew that their position was a desperate one.
CHAPTER II: A MAD DOG
“Don't you think, Hargate,” Ruthven shouted in his ear, “we had better run before it? It's as much as Handcock can do to keep her head straight.”