“She’s headed straight for us and we can’t get out of the way. If she doesn’t change her course, it will be a miracle if she doesn’t run us down.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” said Bill in sobered tones. “What can we do?”
“Nothing but to sit tight and trust to luck.”
Both lads now sat with anxious eyes fixed on the approaching lights. Nearer and nearer they came, traveling fast.
“Shout, Bill, shout with all your might,” enjoined Jack.
They began yelling at the top of their lungs. But those inexorable lights, like the eyes of some savage monster, still bore down menacingly on them. Already, in anticipation, they felt the impact of the sharp bow, the crash of smashed timbers and the suction of the propellers drawing them down to death.
“They don’t hear us,” said Jack. “If the lookout doesn’t sight us, we’re lost.”
The steamer was very close now. By straining their eyes they thought they could make out the dark outlines of her hull and spars against the clearing sky. Bill hid his face in his hands. He could not bear to look at the Juggernaut of the seas advancing to crush them. Jack, with more fortitude, sat erect with a thousand thoughts whirring through his brain.
The mighty bow loomed above the tiny chip of a boat, throwing off a great wave. The comber caught the light craft and flung it aside. What seemed like a black cliff, with here and there a gleaming light piercing its face, raced past them, and the boat, with two white-faced, shaken boys in it, was left in the wake of the fast-moving steamer, safe, but being madly tossed about by the wash of her propellers. The danger had passed, almost by a hand’s breadth, but it was some time before they were sufficiently masters of themselves to discuss their escape.