“I’m out of a guess if there isn’t a wind coming that’d take a sail out of its fastenings in ten seconds,” rejoined Halstead, working industriously with the reeves.
A light squall struck them before the boys had finished their task.
“A September northeaster along this coast is no laughing matter, from all I’ve heard of it,” Tom explained as the two boys took the last hitches. “Now, come on, Hank. We’ll hoist her.”
With long rhythmic pulls at the halyards Tom and Butts got the shortened sail up, making all secure.
“You’d better take the wheel, Joe,” sang out the young skipper. “Hepton, stand by to give a hand if the helm moves hard.”
“You seem rather excited over a pleasant breeze like this,” observed Powell Seaton.
“Wait,” said Tom, quietly. “I only hope I am taking too much precaution. I’ve never handled a boat along the Florida coast before, you know, sir, so it’s best to err on the side of caution.”
Hank was sent off on the jump, now, to make everything secure, while Skipper Tom took his place on the bridge deck at starboard to watch the weather.
“I guess there’ll be time, now, Hank, to rig 204 life lines on the bridge deck,” hinted Halstead, coolly. “Never mind about any aft. Whoever goes below can go through the motor room.”
Catching a look full of meaning in the young commander’s eye, Butts hustled about his new task.