“Weather the gale, sir?” Tom bawled down, hoarsely. “Of course! We’ve got to!”
There was a new sound that made the young sailing master jump, then quiver. With a great tearing and rending the single canvas gave way before the roaring gale. In a trice the sail was blown to fluttering ribbons!
CHAPTER XX
“C.Q.D! C.Q.D.!—HELP!”
“Lay along with me, Hank!” bawled the young skipper, hoarsely, in the steward’s ear. “We’ve got to cut away what’s left of the sail.”
Neither helmsman could wisely be spared. Though the boat now had no power of her own she was being driven sharply before the gale, and some fine handling of the wheel was needed in order to keep the boat so headed that she might wallow as little as possible in the trough of the sea.
Nor was the work of the young captain and Hank Butts anything like play. Making their way out along the top of the cabin deck-house was in itself hazardous. They were forced to clutch at any rigging that came to hand to avoid being washed overboard, for the waves were dashing furiously over the helpless boat.
It was not much of a task to haul in the sheet, making fast. Then, using their sailor’s knives, they slashed away.