“Perhaps she will,” Roy replied with a sigh, and from his tone it was easy to understand that he had his doubts regarding the possibility of outliving the gale, if such it could be called.
An hour later Roy, weary of doing nothing, went into the kitchen to clear away the dishes which had been left as each of the crew finished his supper, and before he returned there was quite a change in the weather.
The wind was veering around from north to east, and again Ned was forced to change the course or call upon his companions to “tend sheets,” something which he was not willing to do because of the danger that they might be washed overboard.
When Roy came to the pilot-house again the helmsman said with a laugh which had very little mirth in it:
“It looks as if we were doomed to box the compass this trip,” and he motioned toward the binnacle.
“I would rather see that than know we were forced to run directly out to sea all night,” Roy replied after a short pause.
“But the question is, where is this new course likely to bring us?”
“That’s what I don’t know; but it doesn’t seem possible there could be any land in our way, certainly not before to-morrow morning.”
Ned made no reply.
The voyage was rapidly becoming so erratic that it was no longer possible to so much as guess where it would end, and he tried to resign himself to whatever the fates might have in store for him.