When it was Ned’s turn to sample the cookery he realized more fully than while in the pilot-house how severely the little craft was laboring.
Below deck he could hear the straining of the timbers, the pounding of the waves, and the creaking of doors and lockers until a nervous person might have imagined the yacht had a full crew of ghosts on board.
It was so dismal and almost uncanny that Ned partook of the food very hurriedly, and was glad to be at the wheel once more.
There had been no change in the position of affairs, save, perhaps, that the weight of the wind had increased a trifle.
The yacht was running reasonably easy, and shipped even less water over the bow than one would have supposed while listening to the noises below.
Roy was at the wheel when Ned entered, and he said as the latter offered to relieve him:
“I had just as soon stand here as to be doing nothing. Suppose you try to get some sleep?”
“That is impossible. I never felt wider awake in my life than I do this minute.”
“That is the way with me, and I’ll stay here awhile longer.”
Ned took advantage of this opportunity to crawl aft and see how matters were going there.