Over the waves the falling rain came hissing like steam. It fell in a torrent. In a second the deck of the Rebecca was running with water. The sails tightened and bellied as the wind came smack! against them. The Rebecca trembled all over, then bent to the blast and began to run through the water like a wild thing. Big Hawley stood at his wheel, as steady as a new mast. He handled the ship as though she were a toy.
"Some thunder-storm," he smiled at Alec. "It'll blow itself out in a little while. Nothing to worry about. It'll get us to the breakwater in jig time."
It did, too. Long before Alec had any idea where they were, Jim brought the Rebecca up into the wind, and with her sails close-hauled, drove her shoreward. The rain still fell heavily, but Alec could dimly make out the curving shore-line and across it, like the string to a bow, stretched a black streak that Alec knew must be the breakwater. The waves were dashing on it madly. But the wind now blew almost parallel with the long stone pile. The breakwater gave them no protection. Rather it was a menace. If the ship should drag her anchor and drift on it, her hull would be battered to pieces in no time. Surely this was no place to heave to in such a storm.
"We'll just beat up along the coast, Jim," said the shipper. "It's a windward shore. The storm will blow itself out pretty soon."
The big sailor threw his weight against the wheel. The ship heeled over in the wind. Something cracked like a rifle-shot. The wheel flew around, almost dropping Hawley to the deck. The rudder had broken.
"Overboard with the anchor!" called the shipper.
Hawley and Alec ran forward to execute the order. There was a splash and the anchor rope paid out fast. Hawley gave the ship sufficient line and went aft again to examine the steering-gear.
"Can't do anything with it," said the shipper. "The rudder itself is broken. We'll have to ride the storm out here, then get help."