“Thank you,” she said, quietly.
“By gad, she's got grit!” muttered the young man, scrambling forward over the prostrate forms of the other passengers. “I wonder if all the women in the world are this way?” He was remembering the bravery of Polly Candage.
There was a huge coil of rope in the bow, spare cable stored there. Mayo made fast the free end, working as rapidly as he was able, and bundled about half the coil into a compact mass—a knob at the end of some ten fathoms of line. And to this knob he lashed oars and the mast he found stowed in the boat. He knew that if they did get free from the schooner only an efficient sea-anchor or drag would keep the yawl right side up. When this task was finished he crouched low in the bow and looked at the girl.
“We're about ready to start on our journey,” he called to her. “If I don't see you again, good-by!”
“I shall not say good-by to you, Captain Mayo—not yet!”
XXIV ~ DOWN A GALLOPING SEA
I saddled me an Arab steed and saddled her another,
And off we rode together just like sister and like brother,
Singing, “Blow ye winds in the morning!
Blow ye winds, hi ho! Brush away the morning dew,
Blow ye winds, hi ho!”
—Blew Ye Winds.
With anxiety that was almost despairing Mayo looked up at the shrouds, stays, and halyards, which were set like nets to right and left and overhead.
A big roller tumbled inboard and filled the space forward of the break of the main-deck. The swirling water touched the sides of the long-boat and then receded when the stricken schooner struggled up from the welter. A scuttle-butt was torn from its lashings and went by the board, and other flotsam followed it.