"Knocks the wind out of it," explained Billington.
"But we have nothing better than these bird guns," cried Standish contemptuously touching with his foot the pile of weapons covered with a tarpaulin lying in the bottom of the boat. "And it drives down upon us like a charge of horse. Here, let me to the helm."
"There is no way upon the boat, Captain," expostulated Eaton. "No man can steer without a wind."
"Thou 'rt right, friend," replied the captain gravely, as he felt the rudder give beneath his hand. "There's naught to do but tarry until Master Waterspout declareth his pleasure."
"Until God declareth His pleasure," amended Bradford quietly. "Men, let us pray."
And baring his head the governor poured forth a strong and manful petition to Him who rideth upon the wings of the wind and reigneth a King forever over His own creation.
Standish standing upright beside the useless tiller bared his head and listened reverently, but always with an eye to the waterspout and to the clouds, and as a deep-throated Amen rose from his comrades he gave the tiller a shove and joyously cried,—
"A puff, a breath! Enough to steer us past!" And the boat feeling her helm again careened gently to the little gust of wind out of the west, and slid away upon her course, while the waterspout, more furious in its speed at every instant, swept past and out to sea, where it presently broke and fell with a thunderous explosion.
"Another crowning mercy!" exclaimed Bradford devoutly, and Standish answered with his reticent smile,—
"Had Master Jones of the Mayflower been here, he would have more than ever felt 't is better to be friends than foes with prayerful men."