Ahead the sea frothed horribly, and several times the schooner swung round a trifle as a cloud of spray rushed up from a big, white upheaval. Then a grey rock buried almost in the wash of a sea slid past, and the combers' tops subsided. Only a confused swell heaved behind them, but the stream seemed to be running with them, and the lads surmised that one of the reefs they had passed behind partly sheltered them from the sea. They were sailing through a tortuous strait apparently. The vapours were, however, closing in, and presently they could make out nothing ahead, though they could still occasionally see the masts of the gunboat or her smoke rolling blackly through the fog, while the wind seemed to be freshening, for the deck slanted further as the Champlain tore along. Twice again a rock that rose suddenly out of the grey heave went by, and once a beam of brightness flickered past the schooner and faded in the fog. Jordan laughed as he glanced astern.
"He's not going to see much of anything in about two minutes," he said. "Down topsails, and get the mainsail off her, boys."
It was done, though the lads who helped wondered, for the gunboat was coming on, until it occurred to them that with the little sail she still carried it would be very difficult to distinguish the Champlain in the haze. Once again the blaze that whirled up dimly behind them went past, and then grey and clammy the fog rolled down.
Jordan nodded with evident content. "We've shown that fellow the way in, and that's about all we'll do for nothing, boys," he said. "You'll be handy with your sheets because it's going to take a little contriving to wriggle out of this."
The men stood about with the ropes in their hands, and swung the boom foresail over when Donovitch spoke to them. They did it more than once, hauled the sheets in and let them run again while the schooner apparently twisted like an eel, and here and there a dim line of foam crept by. Once or twice the lads held their breath as they watched it, and they could see that their strained anxiety was shared by the men, for the roar of the surf rose from every side, and it was evident that all the helmsman's nerve was needed to thread that labyrinth of reefs. Indeed, Appleby fancied that nobody but a sealer would ever have attempted that perilous passage. There was no sign of the gunboat now, and he could picture the consternation of her Commander who had, he surmised, no Indian to take him through.
That, however, was the Commander's affair, and did not lessen the lads' anxiety, while now the thrill of the chase had gone they stood expectant and silent among the rest, listening to the clamour of the surf and staring at the sliding fog. At last there was a slackening of the strain, and Niven laughed excitedly while Appleby drew his breath in when Jordan's voice rose up.
"We've clear water before us now, and we'll have the trysail on her," he said. "Then we'll let her come up with staysail to weather. The Commander will be wanting us by and by."
They went about the decks at a floundering run, and the Champlain soon lay almost stationary with her head to the wind. Then they stood still to listen. No unusual sound the lads could catch came out of the vapours, but one of the men fancied he heard the American's cable. The roar of running chain carries a long distance, and Jordan seemed inclined to agree with him.
"That fellow's had 'bout enough, and he'll be feeling kind of sick when he sees his anchor coming home," he said. "We'll give him an hour to find out the fix he's in, and then some of you will go off and talk to him. Boys, there's dollars in the thing."
Most of the men went below, and the lads with them. There was nothing to be done on deck, and it was considerably warmer in the hold, while it was plain that the gunboat had given up the chase. When they sat down under the swinging lamp there was a little bewilderment in some of the faces, and Stickine watched them with a quiet chuckle.