As the two lads rushed sternward, not caring in their excitement if Raynor was seen or not, they saw that the stout canvas of the storm mainsail had been ripped from leach to peak. The great sail was flapping and snapping in the wind. It made a noise like the reports of cannon.
To make matters worse the great boom, unsupported, was sweeping back and forth across the decks with every roll of the disabled schooner, like a huge flail. It imperiled the lives of everybody who got in its pathway.
“Cut away the halyards and get that canvas loose!� bawled the captain.
Half a dozen sailors tried to, but the threshing boom drove them off.
“Get a line on that boom,� bellowed the mate, “lash it back. Lively, now.�
“It’ll tear out the mast in a minute,� shouted Carson.
The men labored heroically. But it was almost beyond human power to do anything with the volleying mass of canvas and the great boom. The captain and the mate shouted encouragingly to them but it appeared to do little good. Once or twice a man was almost lost over the side in the struggle for mastery.
The boys were now quite close to the whole wild scene. But nobody noticed them. Everyone was far too much engrossed in his own affairs. There was nothing they could do, but they stood by in readiness. To them it seemed as if every moment must be the schooner’s last.
“Here, you,� shouted Carson, stepping suddenly forward and addressing one of the men, “what are you doing with those ropes? You’re cutting the wrong ones.�
He hastened forward to show what he meant. For the nonce he had forgotten the terrible sweep of the menacing boom. An instant later the big spar, sweeping in a huge semi-circle, swung straight at him.