"This is better!" exclaimed Russ. "Now let's take an account of stock, and see what else we can do. We may be here for some time."
"We can't live very long in this awful weather!" groaned, rather than spoke, Mr. Sneed.
"Oh, don't give up so easily," said Russ.
But when the storm grew worse, and the tiny craft was buffeted about, shipping considerable water, even stout-hearted Russ was not as hopeful as he had been. He had stowed the camera in a safe place, and put the films in a water-tight box well forward. Then the only thing to do was to wait. In vain he scanned the sea through the storm for a sight of the schooner. He could catch no glimpse of her.
Meanwhile the lookout on the Mary Ellen was eagerly watching for any signs of the Ajax, but he had even less chance of seeing her than Russ and Mr. Sneed did of sighting the larger vessel.
The storm was constantly growing worse. As old Jack had said, the schooner had actually been caught in the very vortex of it, but the whirling motion, imparted by the meeting of two different wind currents, had been the saving of the craft. She had been shunted to the outer edge, as a cork, going around in a whirlpool, is sometimes tossed to safety by the very violence of the motion.
Then she had scudded before the gale.
All that night they scudded before the storm, not knowing where they were, and when morning came there was a wild and tumultuous waste of waters all about them. Alice ventured up on deck, against the advice of her father and sister.
She saw Jack Jepson and some sailors amidships. They seemed to be in earnest consultation. Alice drew near them, intending to ask if there were any news.
As she came near the mainmast, there was a sudden veer to the craft, a snapping, splintering sound, and the mast, with its gear of sail, boom and gaff crashed over the side, smashing the stout bulwarks.