"We are going to the bottom," choked out Billy, the first of the party to recover the use of his vocal organs.
"I'm afraid there's no doubt of that," said Jack. "Donald Judson," he shouted, raising his voice and throwing it across the appreciable distance that now separated the two craft, "you'll pay for this."
"It was an accident, I tell you," yelled back the other lad, but in a rather shaky voice.
"You'll do no good by abusing us," chimed in his father.
"What'll we do, Jack?" demanded Noddy, tugging at Jack's sleeve.
"Steer for the shore. There's just a chance we can make it, or at least shallow water," was the reply.
"Doesn't look much as if we could make it," said Billy dubiously, shaking his head and regarding the big leak ruefully, "but I suppose we can try."
The wounded Curlew began to struggle along with a motion very unlike her usual swift, smooth glide. She staggered and reeled heavily.
"Put her on the other tack," said Jack. Noddy followed his orders with the result that the Curlew heeled over on the side opposite to that which had been injured, and thus raised her wound above the water line. Billy began bailing, frantically, with a bucket, at the water that had already come in.
"Shall we help you?" cried Donald.