Kenworth gripped the spokes again. If ever fear was written on a face, it was on his. The thought of the death that was so near paralyzed him. Perhaps he thought of that other storm off the Cuban coast when Ned had brought them safely aboard through a wilder sea than this.
The Jap's teeth chattered as he unfastened the handcuffs and Ned jerked his hands free.
"Now hand over that gun. Quick, now," snapped out Ned.
The Jap was so terrified that he would have done anything he was told. With hands that shook, he handed over the pistol. Ned took possession of it with grim satisfaction.
The chance that he had hoped against hope might come had arrived. He was on even terms with his foes. But would that fact do him any good? The storm was raging so furiously that Ned, with all his optimism, could not hope that the motor craft would live through it.
The only thing to be done, as he saw it, was to run for the lee of a point of land some distance off. If they could reach this in safety, they might have a chance. If not, and the storm continued to increase in violence, there was hardly one chance in a thousand for them.
The angry lightning hissed and crackled and the thunder boomed with ear-splitting clamor as Ned made his way forward to Kenworth's side. When he arrived there, he seized the other by the shoulder and shouted in his ear.
"Steer for that point yonder! It's the only chance we've got."
Kenworth, in his fear forgetting everything but the instinct of self-preservation, obediently headed the storm-stressed craft around.
It was at that moment that another sea broke upon the little vessel.