“It’s all over,” gasped the boy, in his excitement, though somehow even then there was no feeling of fear.
Another minute as she still dashed on, plunging through the waves, the vessel began to right again, the masts rising more and more towards the perpendicular, and the water that seemed to have been scooped up in the hollows of the well-reefed sails came streaming back in showers upon the deck.
Another minute and Rodd began to get his breath again, panting hard and feeling as if some great hand had been grasping him by the throat and had at last released its hold, while as the schooner now skimmed on, every furlong taking her more into shelter, the squall had passed over them and went sweeping along far away over the town ahead, and the boy felt a strong grip upon his arm.
Rodd turned sharply, to face Cross the sailor, who held on to him with his left while he used his right hand to clear his eyes from the spray.
“All right,” he said, with his lips close to the boy’s ear, so as to make himself heard, while Rodd winced, for as the man leaned towards him he poured something less than a pint of salt water from off his tightly-tied-on oilskin sou’-wester right into his eyes.
Rodd nodded without attempting to speak, and the sailor laughed.
There was something so genial and content in the man’s looks, that it sent a thrill of satisfaction through the boy’s breast, telling as it did that they were out of danger, while, as they rapidly glided on, the shrieking of the wind through the rigging grew less and less and the motion of the schooner more and more steady as the harbour was gained.
“Say, my lad,” said Cross, “I thought we was going to make our first dive after specimens, and the Saucy Sally seemed to be holding her breath as she stuck her nose down into it and then jibbed and threw herself over sideways as if she knowed there wasn’t depth enough of water for the job.”
“Hah!” gasped Rodd hoarsely, for he had been taking in spray as well as wind, and he had now nearly recovered the power of breathing easily and well. “Why, Joe, I thought we were sinking.”
“Nay, my lad; not us! The Sally was too well battened down, and couldn’t have sunk; but I was getting a bit anxious when it looked as if we was going to miss the harbour mouth and go floating in ashore lying down as if we had all gone to sleep.”