Nat was the first to regain his wits.
"The saluting cannon—quick!"
He had recalled in a flash of inspiration having read in some book of voyages that a shot will sometimes shatter a waterspout.
He was by no means certain that it would work out in practice, but the plan in their present desperate situation was well worth trying, at all events.
The saluting cannon was bolted to the starboard side of the bridge. A full charge of powder, placed there when she had arrived in Santa Inez with the idea of firing a salute, was in place. All that was needed was some missile to ram home on top of it, for, of course, the charge was blank.
The chest with its collection of metal and wood odds and ends still lay close at hand. They had been too disgusted to touch it that afternoon. Right on top was a big slug of iron, which had been used on the "Nettie Nelsen" as a weight for the sounding line. It was the work of an instant with Nat to ram this home in the cannon and place a wad of canvas in on top of it.
The others watched him in silence. Only Captain Akers and Captain Nelsen had any idea of what he was after, and they deemed it more prudent to say nothing that might interrupt the lad.
The waterspout was now terribly near. Its roar was deafening and its mighty crest was hidden in an aurora of mist and spray. Big, angry waves rolled and tossed at its squirming base.
Swinging the cannon round on its pivot, Nat aimed the weapon full at the advancing spout. With a silent prayer he jerked the lanyard that fired the charge.