“You’re right; but I don’t see any other way for it. To take the chances of pilin’ up on the land by headin’ west would be worse than foolish, and besides, with such poor sailors aboard, we might as well be on a raft, for the only safe thing to do is to go with the wind. I wonder if you fellows can’t reef the sails?”
“Of course we can, and I think it would be a good idea to get out the lanterns, unless we want to be run down.”
“I declare I never thought of that!” Ned exclaimed. “Attend to it, will you, and then see what can be done toward shortening the canvas. I’ll bear a hand if one of you will take the wheel.”
“Stay where you are. I reckon Vance and I can do that much.”
“Be careful of yourselves!” Ned cried as the two left the pilot-house. “You know it wouldn’t take much of a flap of the sails to knock you overboard.”
“We’ll look out!” Vance cried, and then the two disappeared down the companion-way to the engine-room in the search for the signal lights.
It was fifteen or twenty minutes before the lanterns were in their places, and then the foresail was lowered as the boys began to reef it.
Meanwhile Ned stood at the wheel trying in vain to peer through the dense blackness of the night, and the little yacht plunged on her way to possible perils—perhaps a second shipwreck.
CHAPTER XVI.
AN ANXIOUS CREW.
Nervous as Ned was for the safety of his friends, it seemed as if they would never finish reefing the sails.