So far as his peace of mind was concerned, perhaps it would have been better if he had remained with his companions, although there appeared to be no question but that the yacht still had sufficient sail on to enable her to keep ahead of the pursuing waves.
It was the general appearance of the water which would have terrified any landsman, and Ned was not proof against such a sight.
There were moments when the huge liquid wall towered high above the stern of the little craft, apparently certain to break upon her, and at each of these watery rushes Ned literally held his breath, expecting each instant to hear the crashing of the timbers as the wave dashed upon the craft.
The foam upon the waves shone with a certain dull, white light, thus revealing the seething mass beneath it, and it was what the beholder imagined that made up the horror of the sight.
When Ned finally groped his way back into the wheel-house he was trembling as if in an ague fit, and, hearing his voice as he spoke to Vance, Roy asked quickly:
“What’s the matter? Anything wrong?”
“No; we are getting along even better than might be supposed.”
“What makes your voice tremble so?”
“I reckon I must have got chilled. I was standing aft, and this wind is mighty cold, especially to a fellow who has been livin’ in such a hot place as the key.”
Roy was not satisfied with this explanation, and fancying there was some new peril of which Ned would not speak, said: