Chapter Nineteen.
Ticklish.
Burgess the mate went forward, to stand for a few minutes looking into the offing, before going back aft to say a word or two to the man at the wheel, as the schooner was now gliding rapidly on, and then walked sharply to where the skipper was giving orders to the men, which resulted in a big gaff sail being run up, to balloon out and increase the schooner’s rate of speed through the water.
A short consultation ensued, another man was put on the look-out forward, and the mate went back to take the wheel himself.
“Ah, that’s better,” said Poole quietly.
“What’s better?” asked Fitz.
“Old Burgess taking the wheel himself. It’s a bad enough place here in the daylight, but it’s awful in the darkness, and we are not quite so likely to be carried by some current crash on to a rock.”
“Then why, in the name of common-sense, don’t we lay-to till daylight?”