Chapter Twenty Four.
A Responsible Position.
Confused and still half-steeped in sleep, Mark blundered about for a few moments before he reached the door, and was then thrown back, for the schooner heeled over, and then there was a tremendous bump, which made her shiver.
“Mr Vandean, sir, quick! All hands on deck!” came in familiar tones, as the lad struggled to the door once more, and then up through the hatchway, to find the schooner on her beam ends rushing through the water, which was foaming around them. Then a wave once more struck her, deluging the deck, and making her shiver as she rose again upon an even keel.
“Where are you, Tom Fillot?” shouted the midshipman.
“Here, sir. Wheel,” came back; and the next minute he was beside Tom Fillot and Joe Dance, who were trying to steady the vessel as she rode on through the surf.
“Where are we?” shouted Mark, his voice sounding pitifully small amidst the roar of the waves.
“Ashore, ’mong the breakers,” cried Tom with a groan. “But I think we’re ’most through ’em, sir.”