He stopped and jerked the tiller, a moment too late, for a sea came over the bow. The water foamed about Marston's knees, the lantern went out, and he thought he felt the compass strike his legs.
"Bale!" said Wyndham, sharply. "She'll capsize if she ships another before you get this lot out."
Marston did his best, while the lantern and compass washed against the bucket. There was no use in stopping to pick them up, since he could not get a light and Harry was now steering by the wind. He must keep her as near it as she would point until they crossed the bay and found the land again. Marston hoped this would be soon. For some time he did not look up and afterwards wondered how Wyndham kept her afloat, but at length the plunges got easier and the water did not come on board so fast. By degrees, he got it under, and stopping to stretch his cramped limbs, looked to windward. The sea was smoother and the breeze not so fresh. There was a vague dark line not far off and he knew they were approaching the beach.
"We'll be round the point in a few minutes," said Wyndham. "Bale her dry, and then look out for the red light at San Cristobal."
Soon after he stopped baling, Marston saw a red twinkle. The gig was sailing very fast, swaying down and recovering buoyantly as the gusts came and went. The lug-yard bent in a strained curve and showers of spray blew into the sail. Marston, stooping behind the gunwale, managed to strike a match and told Wyndham the time when he had looked at his watch.
"We have made a good run, but she'll beat it going back, when we'll have the wind a point or two aft," he added. "This ought to give us an hour, or perhaps an hour-and-a-half, at the port."
"It will be enough. Unluckily, the tide is ebbing yet, and although there's not much rise and fall, I don't know if we can both leave the boat. It would be awkward if she grounded and we couldn't shove her off."
Marston nodded. The gig was heavy and he doubted if they could launch her down a beach. It would be risky to tie her to landing steps, because the port-guards watched the harbors at night. Vessels were not allowed to enter after dark. Yet he did not want to be separated from Harry.
In the meantime, they were fast coming up with the light, and when a high, dark wall ran out in front Wyndham luffed the boat and they lowered sail and took down the mast. Marston sculled her past the wall, and the narrow harbor opened up. A few anchor lights swung languidly inside, and the indistinct, dark shape of a steamer shut out part of the wall. When they got near her Marston stopped sculling.
"The repairing slip is up at the top by the foundry," he said. "I expect the brigantine to starboard has a rope out. If we try to get across, we might make a splash. If we go the other side, we'll pass close under the steamer's rail. She's a pretty big boat; they'll have a Sereno on board, and keep harbor watch. If somebody hailed us, it might bring the port-guard."