Saki turned a sort of pasty green. His knees almost knocked together. The motor boat was a narrow-waisted, wasp-like craft, and did not appear to be suited for heavy weather.
"Maybe so we better go back," suggested the Jap in a shaky voice. He glanced apprehensively at the mighty canopy of the storm overhead.
Kenworth turned on him almost savagely.
"We'll go back when I get good and ready," he said. "I want to see how much this white-livered braggart can stand. Yes, I mean you, Strong."
There was a sweeping blast of wind. It was followed by a blinding flash and then a roar like the rumble of a million celestial chariot wheels. The Jap hid his face while the lightning seared and streaked the sky as if an egg had been spattered to smithereens on a blackboard. The very air smelled sulphurous.
"I—I guess we'll go back," said Kenworth.
Just then a wave struck the side of the bow and reared its white crest high above the tossing craft. Saki sprang to his feet as the salt water came dousing down in a regular cloudburst. It drenched Kenworth to the skin and tore from the Jap a frightened shout.
"Hope you like it," grinned Ned, the only collected person on the boat. The dark frenzy of Kenworth's mad passion had passed and now he saw with panic-stricken eyes the danger they were in. The wind was howling furiously and the waves were piling up on every side. It seemed impossible that the lightly built craft could live much longer in the tumult of waters.
Saki was in a panic of fear. Crouched on the bottom of the boat, his yellow face looked, in the glare of the almost incessant lightning, like some hideous war-mask of the old Samurai.
Ned gazed about him. The outlook was bad, very bad. And then there were those handcuffs. If only he could get them off. He addressed the terrified Saki.