In the midst of this Jack was seen to be crawling out of the cover.
“What are you going to do?” shouted Josh.
“All of us have forgotten that we’ve got an anchor forward,” Jack told him; “I’m going to drop it over. It may take hold; and anyway it’s bound to keep our head into the storm by dragging!”
“Let me help you, Jack!” added Josh with his usual impulsiveness.
“You may come along, but no one else,” he was told.
Of course, that was aimed primarily at Buster, for Jack could not forget how clumsy the fat chum always proved himself to be; and the chances were that he would manage to fall overboard did he attempt to crawl along the slippery sloping deck.
Once outside and Josh realized what a difficult thing it was going to be to get forward to where the anchor might be found. The little boat rolled and tossed like a chip on the angry seas. Josh felt almost dizzy with the motion, but he shut his teeth grimly together and resolved to stick it out to the end. If Jack could stand it surely he should be able to do the same. Besides, he would sooner die almost than let George see him show the white feather.
“Get a good hold before you move each time,” called Jack in his ear; “and better grab me if you find yourself going!”
That was just like Jack’s generous nature; he thought nothing of the added risk he was assuming when he gave Josh this advice.
Josh would never be apt to forget that exciting experience as long as he lived. Except when the lightning came it was as impossible to see anything as though they were in the midst of a dark night; and even then all they could detect was what seemed to be a wall of gray fog enveloping them on every side, with the white-capped waves leaping and tossing like hungry wolves around them.