"Let me spell you now," Jack said as he rose from his seat.
While they had been talking the wind had been steadily rising and now it was blowing almost a gale making it difficult to keep the boat's head into the wind.
"Just a minute," Bob cried pulling strongly on his right oar. "It won't do to let her get broadside," he added as he moved over on his seat to give Jack room.
It was a fortunate thing that they were used to boats else it is doubtful if they would have been able to change places without allowing the craft to wallow in the trough, but they finally accomplished it and Bob was glad to rest his aching arms.
"Have you any idea how far we are from shore, sir?" he asked as soon as he had settled himself in the seat beside the captain.
"A matter of twenty-five or thirty miles. As you know we were about twelve hours out, but we've been running not far from land."
In spite of his warm clothing Bob's teeth soon began to chatter as the night was cold and he had been sweating from the violent exercise of rowing. Fortunately the captain had on his heavy coat and, although he acknowledged that he was none too warm, he was not shivering.
"What do you think of the weather, sir?" Bob asked a few minutes later.
"I don't like it. I'm afraid we'll have snow before morning."
As if to confirm his words Bob felt a snow flake strike his face.