It disappeared in a very few moments in the disturbed water, but soon after it rose to the surface again and began to make leaps and darts of a yard or two in length.
“I thought so,” said Lynton drily. “That weight isn’t heavy enough for the rate at which we’re travelling.”
“Let out more line,” said Brace, “and it may sink lower then.”
The mate nodded, and drew about a dozen more yards from the open winder.
“That ought to do it,” he said. “I’ll give the line a twist round that thole-pin, and then we shall hear it rattle if there’s a bite and—here—hi! Bless my soul!”
Whizz! whoop! bang!
The thole-pin had darted overboard, the winder was snatched from Lynton’s hand and struck violently against the steersman’s leg.
Then both he and the mate made a dart at it to stop it, but came heavily in contact as they stooped. The tiller flew wide, and the boat careened over so dangerously that, if the man who held the sheet had not hastily let go so that the sail went flying, the mate would have gone over the side, and would soon have been left behind, as the boat was now going along at a considerable speed.
It was only a matter of a moment or two, and then the tiller was steadied, the sheet hauled home, and the boat glided swiftly on once more.
“I say,” cried Briscoe, as Dan sat grinning with delight, “what’s it all about?”