The worst seemed to be over, however, for presently sail was got on her, and though the wind continued to rave and howl through the rigging, she was on a more even keel and much steadier.
Presently the captain himself had a peep into the lads' state-room.
He had a bronzed but cheerful face, and was clad in oil-skins from his sou'-wester hat to his boots.
"Not afraid, are you, boys? No? Well, that's right. We have broken down, and it will be many days before we get into London; but we'll manage all right, and I think the wind is just a little easier already."
"So we won't go to Davie Jones's to-night, will we, captain?"
"Not if I know it, lad. Now, my advice is this: go to sleep, and--er--well, there can be no harm if you say your prayers before you do drop off."
The boys took his advice, and were soon fast in the arms of Morpheus. So, too, was honest Viking. He was one of those dogs who know when they are well off, so he preferred remaining in Conal's bunk to descending to the wet deck again. To show his sympathy, he gave the boy one of his huge paws to hold, and so hand-in-hand they fell asleep.
The wind was still blowing when they sat down to breakfast with the captain and first mate, for there was not another passenger on board save themselves. The old saying, "The more the merrier", does not apply to coasting steamers in early winter. The fewer the easier--that is more truthful.
The gale was a gale no longer, but a steady breeze. The ship was given a good offing, for the wind blew from the north-east, and to be too close to a lee shore is at all times dangerous.
But how very snug and cosy the saloon looked, when they were all gathered around the brightly-burning stove that night.