“Halstead,” the charter-man shouted back, “since I have to be out here on rough waters, and in the big blow, I am glad I’m with you two. I couldn’t be in braver hands. When I do turn in to-night it will be to sleep soundly.”
How true the latter part of his prediction would come Tremaine could not guess as he groped his way down below.
This night of hurricane was full of dangers, even though the propeller shafts should hold and the motors continue to work under the strain. A score of times, at least, each of the young navigators had to fight the grave danger of being lifted and carried overboard on the curling crest of one of the many huge, combing waves that piled over the stern of the “Restless” and dashed thunderously along the low deck of the yacht.
Every now and then, while Tom was at the wheel, Joe went below to look over his motors. Once he found them becoming overheated. It was necessary to slow the speed down to seven miles, and at this lessened gait the boat rolled more than ever. Yet Joe had to fight it out with the motors, even though headway was lost.
When, at last, late in the night, the speed had been put up to nine miles, Joe came up on deck and Skipper Tom went briefly below. He found all his passengers still up in the cabin.
“I just came below,” smiled Captain Halstead, “to assure you all that it will be wholly safe for you to turn in, if you wish. I wouldn’t say that if I didn’t believe it. Mr. Tremaine, we’ve had to slacken the speed for quite a while, to cool our engines, so we won’t make Oyster Bay as early as I had expected.”
The ladies, who could hardly hold their eyes open, expressed a desire for sleep. Tremaine and young Dixon assisted them as far as their stateroom door, then came back.
“I believe I’ll turn in, Tremaine,” yawned Oliver Dixon, just as Tom Halstead, in his sou’wester and oilskins, departed. “Are you going to do the same?”
“After my bed-time glass of water, yes,” nodded the charter-man, groping his way to the sideboard and reaching for the water-bottle.
Ham, still wholly of the opinion that he had seen a ghost, had long ago crept into his bunk in the motor room, covering up his head. He had fallen asleep. Muffled snores from that berth greeted the young skipper as he reached the motor room.