They must unship and repair the rudder. Without this they would but drift like a log once more, and probably be once more engulfed among the terrible weeds.
The rudder, when at last they did manage to unship and hoist it, was found to be more severely damaged than any one had been aware of.
They had to cut timber from the lower deck itself to splice and repair it. But at long, long last they were successful.
But heavy seas, though smooth, were once more rolling in from the south and west, and it was days before they could get the anchor re-shipped.
Was danger all over now?
No, indeed, it was not.
For the backwash of the Atlantic had a tendency to thrust them north again into the Sea of Sargasso, and there was not a breath of wind to aid them in keeping away.
But luckily the sandbank ran far south, and along this they crept by means of hawser and windlass, until they had made good quite a wide offing.
The sandbank ended now, and just at its edge they cast anchor, and determined to wait for the wind, or for assistance from some passing steamer.
No help! no hope! and day after day flew by. They appeared as far from succour as ever.