“Vhell, how do you like id now?” roared the voice of von Kluck almost at Harry’s elbow. “Vhat you tink of dis for some shtorm?”
“This is fierce!” replied the lad, bracing himself against the wind. “Where are we now, Captain von Kluck?”
“Under der lee of one of der Friesian Islands,” replied the captain. “I see some rocks aheadt und dere is a big shteamer in drouble oop to vindvard. I hope she makes id into safety, bud I don’d know!”
Shaking his head doubtfully the captain went away forward. Presently he returned, still shaking his head. The crew except the captain and the mate were gathered forward round the capstan.
“Dere’s rocks dere—lots of dem!” announced von Kluck. “Dot wessel looks like she’s lost her rutter, und if she gets off dem rocks dot captain needs a medal. I tink he’s a goner, sure!”
It did, indeed, appear as if von Kluck was right. A big cargo steamer, now dimly discernible to the boys, was rolling in the trough of a heavy sea, urged on by a vicious wind from the northwest. Her range lights showed clearly at the mast heads. A gleam of red indicated that the vessel was showing her port side. With every roll great masses of water boarded the weather rail, sweeping the decks of every movable object.
“Look!” cried the mate, excitedly pointing toward the steamer.
There was no need of explanation. A great mass of rock directly in the path upon which the steamer was drifting sent gigantic columns of water into the air with every wave. Although the eastern sky showed a tinge of gray the blackness upon the water was intense. It was lightened momentarily by the white smother of spray and foam cast upward as wave after wave broke upon the black and threatening menace lying immediately before the apparently doomed vessel.
“Py golly, he’s all right!” yelled von Kluck in a moment. “He’s lost dot rutter und he’s backing on his enchines! He’ll make id!”